


Hail to the King

by Gia279



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: :D, AU, Alternate Universe, And legion, And obv. sexy times, Claudia Stilinski is alive, Claudia and Sheriff are magickal, F/M, Hales are alive, I gotta stop with the tags, I'm so sorry, M/M, No Hale Fire, So Hale's turn to wolves, Stilinski family witches, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, Witch AU, all not just the alpha, also Stiles has a younger sister, and fluff, and maybe a certain Hale chases a certain Stilinski and nips that cute butt, and they are witches, because I also like kissy scenes, because I like action, magick, possibly a lot of violence, so that might happen too, sterek, the stilinskis are witches, werewolves are known, witches are known
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2111694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beacon Hills is protected by the powerful witch family the Stilinskis. When the Hale pack needs a safe place to live, they work out a deal. The Stilinskis will protect the Hale's from werewolf hunters, the Hale's will protect the Stilinskis from witch hunters.</p>
<p>Stiles' mother, Claudia, lives, and she has also given Stiles a younger sister named Dru because I think adorable older brother!Stiles is a fun idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Renegade

**Author's Note:**

> Um so this idea was because of the voting going on and I think a song (Hail to the King by Avenged Sevenfold) made me think of it and all I could imagine was Stiles being powerful and also an older brother and also taking a nice big bite out of that hot werewolf. Idk ignore me. Chapter titles mean almost nothing, just whatever song I was listening to while I wrote the chapter.

**Prologue**

"Listen, if you're _absolutely_ sure about this move, Talia, go to Beacon Hills, California. Make friends with the witches there. Witches have been our allies for years, and this particular group is a family. They'll understand."

Talia pressed her lips together, looked at her children waiting by the door. Laura gripped Colin and Cora's hands, keeping them still, while Derek gripped their father's arm, nerves overriding that surly fourteen-year-old's attitude.

"Yes, alright. Beacon Hills," she said testingly as she paid for the coffee. She smiled at her sister. "Peter, Mandy, and Jenny are coming with me, you know."

"Yes, I do know. At least a portion of the pack is gonna go with you," Tia said with a sharp grin. "No one wants to stick around after that incident. Mom's gonna snap a fang when you go."

Talia laughed. "Probably." She shrugged. "We're gonna head out tonight."

"Figured. Gimme a call when you get there. I think I'll make myself scarce until everything dies down." Tia winked. She'd never needed pack as much as the rest of them. 

Talia kissed her cheek and met her family at the doors of the dinner. 

Beacon Hills was a small town. Talia had to scramble to find a hotel just outside of town with enough space close together for her thirteen pack members and herself when they arrived.

When everyone was settled, albeit uncomfortably--no werewolf liked a hotel--she went to the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department on the instructions of Tia's informant.

The Hills, he'd said, practically _belonged_ to the Stilinskis, the witch family she was looking for. They protected the town, apparently. They weren't the only witch family in the town by far, but they were the most well known, the most powerful.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" the deputy at the front desk asked, looking up from his computer. 

She approached his desk cautiously, saw the moment he shifted his thoughts from _human annoyance_ to _werewolf with an actual problem_. 

"I'm looking for Jonathan Stilinski," she began firmly, about to speak again when a boy ran from the waiting area, his eyes panicked as he bolted toward an office down the hall.

"No--Stiles, damn it, _catch her,_ ," the deputy called, his cheeks reddening. "Uh, well." He huffed. "That's me. Nate, actually. Nate Stilinski." 

Talia glanced over her shoulder as the little boy let out a sharp, "No, Dru," from the office.

Deputy Stilinski dropped his head in his hands. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "My wife, uh, suggested they spend time with me at _my_ "office" for the day, since she's been keeping them at home and has been working from home at the time being. Usually there aren't _misbehaving children_ running around," he called toward the children pointedly.

The little boy reappeared, probably 11 or 12, gangly and fair, holding tight to the hand of a giggling little girl.

"Dru, you have to stay where Dad can _see_ us," the boy was saying. He smiled at Talia absently as he towed his sister.

"No, Tiles," the girl said patiently. "Say hi." 

"Hello," he said quickly, and began to walk again; the girl dug her heels in.

" _Hi_ , Alpa," the little girl said firmly, fighting her brother.

"Drusilla," Deputy Stilinski said sharply. "Go sit with Stiles."

Dru pouted and waved sadly at Talia who, smiling, waved back. She was about Cora's age, maybe _six_ if she could guess.

Alpa...? Alpha?

Talia looked at the children again, caught the boy levitating some toys around a chair for the girl to chase. Witch children, then, already talented. 

She laughed a little, impressed. "Deputy Stilinski-"

He chuckled weakly. "After that, I guess you can call me Nate." 

"Nate. I'm Talia Hale, and...I...my pack and I were thinking of moving to Beacon Hills."

Nate nodded. "You need space?" 

She smiled tiredly. "Yes. And my family needs...protection. We were attacked weeks ago by a hunter family. We need...I could pay for protection spells."

Nate looked affronted. " _Pay?_ No. We'll protect you if you protect us." His eyes flicked to his children. "People hunt for witch blood, too. We're pretty safe here, but if we ever need help..."

"You have the Hale pack," Talia said with great relief.

Nate nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Now...let's find you a place. How many people you got?"

"Fourteen, counting myself. Oh, fifteen counting Peter and Mandy's unborn baby."

He nodded, rubbing at his left wrist like it was sore. "Well, there's a place out in the preserve. Built for a werewolf family years ago, twenty of them lived there. They decided they needed mountains, not trees, entrusted Andrea Reyes to deal with getting it sold and keeping it up until it was. It's clean and well kept, I'd say."

"Is there space to add on if we wanted?" 

He nodded. "Lots of it, too."

"Dad, we're hungry."

He sighed. "You want to check it out?" he asked, holding up a finger to his son who had started to let out a groan. "Maybe grab some food on the way?"

"Sure," she said with a grin.

They rode in a police cruiser out to a fast food place where he got sandwiches and curly fries for the kids who were thrilled and chattering excitedly in the back seat while Talia and Nate spoke.

"How old is your son?" she asked politely, thinking maybe Derek would have someone to hang out with when they moved in.

"Stiles is almost ten," Nate said proudly, glancing in the rearview at him.

Talia blinked, glanced back at the boy. "He's so _tall_ for his age." Playmate for _Colin_ then. Possibly. 

"Yeah, he eats like a tapeworm, too." 

"So do you!" Stiles protested from the back.

"Me too!" Dru piped up, bouncing in her car seat.

"No you don't," Stiles said patiently. "You eat like a _bird_ , Momma said."

"She said it's cause I can steal your food and you don't notice," Dru said proudly.

Nate laughed helplessly and gestured vaguely. "The house is up in the woods here. You wanna go in and see or would you rather you wait until the rest of your pack is here?"

"We can look now," Talia said, because she knew all of the pack's preferences. 

 

The house was set far into the woods, an area that had been cleared of trees to give it a lot of yard around the perimeter of the house. It was nice and spacious, lots of windows and porch space.

"It's...perfect," Talia decided, head tilted. "Yes. Okay. Give me this Reyes' number, I'd like to call her."

Nate nodded and passed her a card. "You ready to go back now? I think Andrea's probably sleeping at the moment."

"Oh, yes. I was going to call her in the morning."

Nate laughed. "I'd hope. Alright. Well. Welcome to Beacon Hills, Mrs. Hale."

She smiled at him, laughing when Dru parroted her father. 

 

**Chapter One- Four Years Later**

Drusilla Stilinski wasn't exactly _forbidden_ from going into the woods. She was just told not to go in _alone_. No one had ever said she couldn't go in about a half hour _after_ her brother had gone in, trying to catch up. Not specifically, at least. 

She skipped along and cast harmless spells for sounds and lights to dance along with, fingers fluttering constantly to keep the spells going.

When a branch snapped behind her, she giggled, spinning and shouting, "Catch me!" as she launched herself forward. 

Laura Hale, twenty-years-old and far from expecting a flying ten-year-old, nearly missed her.

"You sneak," she laughed, nuzzling Dru's cheek. "Why are you alone?"

"Stiles left without me," she said with a pout. "So I was catching up."

"Hmm...." Laura tapped the little girl's nose. "You guys are having dinner at our house, right? For Uncle Peter's birthday?" 

Dru nodded excitedly. "Daddy said that Uncle Peter is gonna have two birthday cakes. Mom said that as long as we sang to him twice, he'd be happy." 

Laura laughed. "Probably. Come on-"

"No wait! I wanna use my magick to get there by myself. If I get lost, I can call for help."

Laura eyed her. She was wearing a bright green jacket, so they'd probably be able to see her if they had to search for her. "Alright. If you don't get there, very soon, I'm gonna send Derek to get you."

Dru gasped. "You won't!" Her cheeks went pink.

"I _will_." Laura smirked.

Dru had developed a _tiny_ crush on Derek recently. He reasoned that the more time he spent with her, the faster it'd go away. It was hilarious to watch, because Dru had taken to avoiding him. His struggles were many. 

"Okay, okay, I'll be fast," Dru grumbled, wiggling down. "You're _mean_."

"You love me." 

Dru considered for a long moment and finally said, "Well, I love Cora more."

"And Derek most, right?" Laura teased, laughing at the blush that rose to Dru's pale cheeks.

"Nope, I think Carter is the one I love the most."

"Carter is four months old, _everyone_ loves him the most anyway." Laura bent and sniffed at Dru's wild brown curls once and straightened. "Don't get lost, little red. Wolves run around these woods."

"Yeah, _you_ guys." Dru stuck her tongue out. "Plus, _Stiles'_ jacket is red, not mine. **He's** little red."

"Mmm," Laura said, because she had heard little fourteen-year-old Stiles called Red Riding Hood before and she was _supposed_ to think it was funny, but mostly she found it suspicious.

"Go, Laura, go, go, go." Dru shoved and giggled until Laura ran off home. Dru started her playing again, skipping along and scuffed her sneakers though some of the fallen leaves. 

She thought maybe she was getting close when she sensed someone behind her.

She turned around fast.

A man with ash blond hair smiled at her. "Hi," he said kindly, his blue eyes bright and friendly. 

Dru smiled. "Hi. Who are you?"

"I'm Chris. Are you a...witch?"

"Yep! Are you?"

"No, not me," he laughed, crouching in front of her. He had on jeans and boots, a cargo jacket that was bulky on one side. "What can you do?" he asked, making a small, aborted movement with his hand as if he'd been about to reach for her.

"Fire is my favorite," Dru answered, "because it's the easiest."

"Wha-really?" He looked shocked. "Is it hard for everyone else?" 

Dru laughed. "No! Silly. Fire first, fire last, fire helps us find the past," she sang. "My big brother taught me that," she said proudly. "He helps me remember my lessons with stuff like that. He's _really_ smart."

"Yeah?" Chris smiled. "Wanna show me any?"

"Any _magick?_ " She laughed. "Don't you see it on TV?"

"Yeah, you're right." He shook his head. "I guess only grown ups on TV can do magick."

Dru's neck prickled. She was ten, not a baby. Plus, she had the smartest boy in 10th grade for her big brother.

"You wanna see my fire?" she asked slyly.

Chris smiled kindly at her and nodded.

"Okay." She threw her hand out and created a quick blast of flames in a tight circle around her ankles. She could usually do more, and the fact that the flames flickered and died within twenty seconds made her nervous.

"What's your name?" she asked sweetly.

"I-" he frowned, flicked his glance down at her hand. "I'm Chris."

"No, silly," she giggled. "What's your _last_ name? Mommy says it's only polite." Mommy had said no such thing. 

Chris flashed a charming smile. "Right. Chris Argent, at your service, young lady."

_Argent._

Dru jolted, terrified.

"Are you going to your friend's house?" he asked politely.

She nodded, her mouth feeling dry and stuck.

"They live all the way out here? Are they witches, too?"

_**STILES!**_ She shook her head, trembling. _Argent. He's an...Argent._ Her thoughts felt strange, muddy and thick. 

"Oh, they're human?" Chris asked with an unassuming head tilt.

Dru thought, _Yes,_ but what came out of her mouth was, "No."

"You're friends with a _werewolf_?" he asked with widened eyes, an awed voice.

"Yes," she replied involuntarily.

_**Where are you, Dru?**_

Dru forced her arm up, opening her palm and shooting a very weak burst of fire into the air.

"Can you take me to your friend's house?" Chris asked, smiling at her.

"No!" She shouted, stumbling back. She raised her hands. "Stay away from me!" 

"Dru!" Stiles grabbed her right hand, holding his other hand out at Chris Argent. "Iron dust?" he demanded, wiping at Dru's hand with his shirt. He looked at Chris with disgust. "She's ten! Putting iron dust on anyone under 18 is illegal, and if they don't want it _over_ 18, that's _also_ illegal."

"I wasn't going to hurt her-" Chris began, reaching for his pocket.

Stiles straightened his fingers and shoved, hard, so that Chris flew back and fell in the dirt. He was particularly skilled with the air element.

"Come on, Dru."

"No, Stiles, we _can't_. He's an _Argent_." 

Stiles froze. "Was he trying to-"

" _Yes._ He tried to take me to--Laura's."

Stiles handed her his cell phone that he'd gotten as a reward for good grades. "Call Mom and Dad. I'll...bind him."

Dru hesitated in her dialing. "But--shouldn't you--binding is _hard_."

He grinned at her. "I can do it."

She called her father's work phone. "Dad, we're in the woods. A man named Chris Argent threw iron dust on me and wanted me to take him to the--to Laura..."

Nate inhaled sharply. "Is--Stiles is with you? Did you get the iron in your mouth? Did it get on Stiles, too?"

"No, not in my mouth or on Stiles. He's---he bound the Argent guy, Daddy, Stiles put on a binding spell," her voice rose excitedly. "He _bound_ him, all the way-"

"Dru, baby, call your mom, I'm on my way." 

"Okay." She hung up quickly and wiped her mouth, still bubbling with excitement. "Stiles, how--how'd you do that?" she asked, biting her lip and peering at the man lying stiff on the ground. She licked her lip to soothe the bite.

"I practiced with Colin and Jean," he said smugly, glaring at the man on the ground. "Call mom before I lose my hold, though, Dru."

"Ohmay," she said cheerfully. But when she looked at the phone, she couldn't see the numbers. "Thile, the'bers are..." she wobbled and coughed.

"Dru, you gotta enuncia-" He turned to face her. "Dru? Dru?"

He'd never seen his younger sister's face so...gray or slack, not even in sleep. He looked between the Argent on the ground and his sister, who was swaying in place.

Finally, he tried desperately to recall the stunning spell he'd learned when he was 9. It was taught to most witch kids for emergencies, but most people never used it and forgot it when they learned bigger stuff. 

Stiles rarely forgot spells, even kiddie ones.

He flickered his fingers at the Argent, watched him jerk and yelp. Stiles flicked his fingers again, slower and more deliberate, and the guy knocked out this time.

He ran to Dru. Her bottom lip was swelling. "Did you touch your mouth? Drusilla, did you touch your mouth?"

She nodded dazedly and stuck her tongue out almost playfully. It was scored with red cracks.

Stiles was shaking. Stupid, fucking _Argent._ His baby sister got _iron dust_ in her mouth. 

Iron dust to witches was like silver for werewolves, except instead of hurting them when put on the skin, it intoxicated them. Ingested, it was very poisonous to witches, especially young ones.

Stiles couldn't remember how to treat iron poisoning. He called his mom. "Dru got iron dust in his mouth," he said without preamble.

"Give her water, make her spit it out, then let her drink some," Claudia said without a hitch. "Then do a cleansing spell."

"She'll puke-"

"Do it, Stiles," she said firmly, calmly. "Then put her to sleep until we get there."

"Mom, what if, when she sleeps-"

"Baby, do what I say." 

Stiles held his hand out, palm cupped, until a ball of clear water formed in his hand. He opened Dru's slack mouth and poured it in. "Don't swallow, Dru. Swish it like mouth wash."

Groggy and slow, she complied.

"Spit it out now."

She whined but followed orders.

Stiles gave her a real drink next, then did the cleansing spell, which was more complicated than he was used to, requiring both hands and a sigil traced on her stomach. She made a choking sound that was instinctively recognized--Stiles leaped away before she could puke on him. She heaved for awhile before apparently finishing, because she started crying. 

He wrapped his arms around her and murmured a gesture-less sleep spell against her ear, tracing the sigil for protection against her shoulder. He knew not a lot of people used sigils anymore--they thought it was easier to use gesture spells. Stiles knew that sigil spells were stronger though.

She collapsed almost before he could catch her. She was already small for her age, so he held her up, struggling only a little.

The sound of running feet made him tense, one hand raising, ready to cast, even as he sank with Dru's unconscious weight to the ground. 

Derek Hale came into view seconds later. "Hey, Stiles, you found her. Laura sent me to--what happened?" He ran to them. "Stiles, give her to me- what happened?"

"No," Stiles tightened his grip on her. "That guy put iron dust on her and she touched her mouth." His voice was shaking. 

"Stiles, give Dru to me-I have to get her to the hospital or Dr. Deaton or--something!" The sound of Derek, 18-year-old, tough werewolf Derek Hale's panicked voice made Stiles burst into tears. "No, no, please, come on, give her to me, she'll be okay," Derek babbled, reaching for her. When his palm touched Stiles' arm, he jolted as if he'd been tased, jumping back and shaking himself out. His brows drew down. "Ow, Stiles, come on, _please_. She needs help-"

"Stiles!"

He cried a little more when his parents found them. Nate immediately cuffed the Argent and Claudia took Dru from Stiles, pausing only to kiss his forehead and send calming energy through him.

The tears stopped and he sucked in a sputtering gasp.

"Derek, take Stiles to your house, call Dr. Deaton. She'll be okay, but we should still have a professional look over her," Claudia ordered, gripping Nate's hand as they went about healing Dru. 

"Is Dru-"

"She's gonna be okay, Stiles. Come on. We have to get Dr. Deaton." 

The Hales were all waiting by the time they got inside. Derek ran for the phone. Stiles mumbled to Talia about the Argent that had attacked Dru.

Argents were notorious werewolf hunters, and apparently they weren't opposed to harming little girls, either.

Aaron, Talia's husband, gathered Laura and Colin to watch all the kids while he, Peter, Mandy, Tanner, Britney, Teresa, and Charlie all ran out to make sure the house and surrounding woods were okay.

"Deaton's almost here. He said Claudia would probably already be done anyway," Derek said. 

"Did you say he threw iron dust on Dru, Stiles?" Talia asked, sitting beside him.

He nodded, tracing a calming sigil on his leg over and over again without putting any power behind it. "It was on her hands, so he probably threw it before she noticed him, or...something. She touched her mouth..." He took a breath. "She was already having trouble casting when I got there. She could barely make fire." _Fire first, fire last,_ he'd taught her. Because fire was generally the first skill learned, and the last to go as power waned with age.

Derek took a seat across from Stiles, letting Tanner and Britney's little girl Riki crawl into his lap. She was five. Stiles and Dru got to visit her in the hospital when she was born.

"Derek," Talia said suddenly. "Why don't you call Deputy Stilinski? Check in?"

Derek hesitated, then nodded and took Riki to the kitchen. 

Stiles put his head down on the table, still tracing, harder now, putting actual magick behind it. 

"What did he look like, Stiles? The Argent man."

Stiles lifted his head with great effort. He felt groggy and heavy. He blinked. "Can I have a bowl of water?"

"Yes." She went to the kitchen to get a wide bowl, having seen this practice before. She came back with a house plant, too.

_Water is cool, water is clear, water is for seeing what's here._

He heard the rhyme in Dru's tired voice and nearly cried again.

_Earth is loving, earth is kind, earth is for balancing your mind._

He drew a sigil over the water bowl with his right hand, then flicked his pinky and ring finger lightly, barely pressing down.

Magick and spells were like music. If you learned to play the piano before learning spells, you could learn the spells faster. Most witches were plopped on a piano bench as soon as they could speak semi-full sentences.

He did the spell, spoke quietly to the water, coaxed the image to the surface.

Argent was awake, in the back of Nate's cruiser, glowering out the window with his lips sealed tightly shut.

"That's him," Stiles mumbled, pulling the plant toward him. It was well tended but still yearning for more sun. He drew a healing sigil, wished he'd studied stronger ones so he could have helped his sister instead of a dumb plant. 

"Thank you, Stiles."

He nodded.

Derek bumped his shoulder. "Your mom and Dru are with Dr. Deaton," he said quietly.

Stiles frowned. "Okay." But then his senses flickered, pale blue fluttering in his vision that meant family was near. He ran outside, nearly knocking into Derek. " _Mom!_ "

Dr. Deaton was carrying Dru, who'd sleepily clung to him, while Claudia had driven his car. 

"She's alright, Stiles." She wrapped her arms around him, kissed all over his face. "She told me you did a binding spell."

"I--yeah." He looked over his shoulder and saw Deaton handing Dru over to Talia. "Are there more Argents here?"

"Ah, not that we know of. Peter said they didn't smell any, and the one with your father said he wanted to talk." She pursed her lips. "Well, until your father forced him to shut up."

Stiles choked on a laugh, clung to her a moment longer. "Is Dru--is she okay?"

"She's fine, baby boy. Come on." She smiled when Derek stepped outside. "Hey there, handsome. You okay after that shock Stiles gave you?" she asked, nodding at his hand. 

Derek blinked and looked at his palm, brows going up. "What's that?" He held his palm out.

Stiles blurted, "My _mark. Mom._ "

The mark on Derek's palm where he'd been shocked by Stiles' energy was intricate and black, swirling and detailed, the edges curving in on themselves and twisting with rounded ends that slipped between the spaces of his fingers. Stiles wanted to stare at it forever.

"Umm...?" Derek prompted, looking highly uncomfortable.

Claudia laughed. "It just means you came in direct contact with Stiles' energy, Derek. It'll go away in a few days if you let it." 

"Mom," Stiles gasped, mortally insulted before he remembered it was someone's _flesh_ he'd marked. "Sorry, Derek," he mumbled.

"It's...okay." Derek was looking at the mark now. "Have you not seen it before?"

He shook his head quickly. "Witches' energy isn't powerful enough to mark until fourteen or fifteen and it's usually blurry. Can we take a picture or something?" 

Claudia snickered. "No, babe. But if he wants to leave it there, it'll stay on like a tattoo, Derek."

"So, it's...like intent?" Derek asked, and Claudia beamed at him.

"Yes. If you ever want it gone, it'll fade. But it won't come back."

Stiles wanted to practice sharing energy. "Can I give Dru some of my energy, Mom? She'll think it's cool when she wakes up!"

"...Okay. Just make sure they go away before school on Tuesday," she sighed.

Stiles ran up the porch steps, pausing to peer at his mark on Derek's hand again. 

"D'you know what it means?" Derek asked curiously.

"It means me," Stiles said with a frown.

"Your name?"

"It's...more complex than that," he said slowly. "It just means... _me_." 

Claudia was smiling when they looked to her for help. "I think you got it pretty well. Go see your sister."

Stiles nudged Derek playfully and ran inside, calling for Colin, Cora, and Jean as he ran up to the guest room Dru was in.

He wondered if he could teach her to practice for when _she_ could mark.


	2. Partner in Crime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this is the last big time skip--this chapter is five years later, and everyone is now the age I need them to be for the rest of the story. :)
> 
> Thank you all soooo much for the comments and kudos! I'm so shocked that so many people actually liked it!!! <3
> 
> ///Fixed mistakes including Erica's hair color (must've been trying to remind myself that Dru is a brunette because last I checked Erica's hair had been blond). ///Possibly it bothered no one but me.

**Five Years Later**

Stiles was thrilled to be home for summer break. Thrilled and anxious. He needed to deal with what had happened in fall, but first, he had someone to pick up.

"Stiles!" 

Scott launched himself off the front porch, running and wheezing his way to Stiles and throwing his arms around Stiles' shoulders. 

Scott had gotten home two days before Stiles, texting furiously to try to rush him along.

"You took _forever_. It's time to go to the Hale's. I thought you said you were going to get here early so we could hang out!"

"There was traffic, and you're coming, too, right?" He beamed at Scott, who rolled his eyes and stepped back.

"Yes, I'm coming. I _was_ invited."

" _I_ don't live there," Stiles reminded him.

Scott pulled an offended face. "Excuse me, _Colin_ invited me."

"Well..." Stiles shrugged. "I was gonna bring you with anyway. I need caffeine before we go, definitely not gonna be much fun if I pass out halfway through the barbecue."

"Not really, no," Scott laughed. "Our parents are already there. We can get coffee on the way."

"Is Dru there, too?" Stiles asked absently, assuming she was. 

She, Cora, and their friend Erica were practically inseparable--basically like he, Scott, and Colin. 

The Unholy Trinity, Claudia, Talia, and Melissa, Scott's mom, liked to call them, which wasn't really fair. They weren't _that_ bad, they were just...curious.

"She's hanging out with Cora, Erica, and a couple other guys."

Stiles nodded, heading to his Jeep. _Wait. Guys. Dru's hanging out with guys now?_ He snickered out loud, thrilled with the prospect of being able to tease her, maybe find out if she _liked_ any of these new people she was hanging out with. 

He'd met Erica a few times, knew she was a couple years older than Dru and Cora. She'd been shy and quiet when Stiles met her, keeping her eyes trained on her book while Dru had introduced her.

She was so opposite of both Dru and Cora that Stiles had started thinking of her as the Lupin of their group.

Which was funny, as she was the only human.

"Yeah, hey, let's go to Peet's for coffee," Scott said, climbing into the passenger seat.

"Peet's? You realize that's twenty minutes _out_ of town?"

Scott's face flushed. "Well...yeah. They have good freddos?" 

Stiles grinned. "Good freddos or a cute barista?"

"She's not a barista yet," Scott said, and began to regale Stiles with all the details of Kira the pastry girl. She worked the register and was in charge of the pastries. She had just moved to Beacon Hills, had a cat named Ghost, and was going to assist in a martial arts summer program at the high school.

By the time they got to Peet's, Stiles was wondering when Scott was going to propose. Scott had always fallen fast and hard into love.

In kindergarten, he _loved_ Astrid Pennington. After that, he **loved** Allison Argent. In his defense, that had lasted longer, because they'd actually dated.

Allison Argent was the daughter of Chris Argent. Chris had come to Beacon Hills five years ago with his daughter. He'd been trying to talk to the Hale pack Alpha--Talia--to tell her he hadn't been a part of the attack on her family, that he wanted to live here peacefully.

Of course, he'd had to pay a hefty fine and bail bond for the iron dust thing first.

The whole time Scott had dated Allison had been _really_ uncomfortable, because with Allison-a really sweet girl, despite the family connections-came Chris and no one could look at Chris without remembering Dru bedridden for three days, her lip cracked and bleeding every time she smiled.

"You okay?" Scott asked, fiddling with the radio.

"Yep. Just missed everybody." He smiled absently.

"We missed you, too," Scott said sincerely. "Before we go to the Hale house, are you gonna tell me why Derek's been avoiding you?"

"Has he?"

"Deflection," Scott pointed out. "But, I mean, it's kind of in all of our faces. He went to visit his grandparents for winter break, you didn't come home for spring break. What's going on?"

Stiles let out an explosive sigh. "You pay _way_ too much attention to nothing. I told you, I had a crap ton of homework during spring break." 

Stiles parked outside of Peet's and got out of the Jeep, waiting for Scott before heading up the ramp toward the patio. A girl in a brown apron was handing out samples of some purple iced drink.

Inside, there were no customers, which was an eerie stroke of luck, so Stiles placed his order quickly with the brunette at the register. A girl with a broom and dustpan started past, then noticed Scott and tripped over the broom head. 

"Hi, Scott," she said brightly, flushing.

Stiles angled his head so he could see her--she had long, wavy black hair up in a ponytail and a wide, shapely mouth that looked used to smiling.

"Hi, Kira," Scott said breathlessly. "This--uh, this is my friend, Stiles," he managed, blinking hard.

"Nice to meet you," Stiles said, grinning.

"Oh! You too." Kira blushed a little. "Scott talks about you a lot. He said you're going to FE University?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, I'm on break now."

"Do only witches attend?" Kira asked with actual curiosity and jumped guiltily when her manager stepped out of the back. "Sorry, um, I have to go sweep the patio. Nice meeting you, Stiles. See you, Scott!"

"Large Mayan Mocha Iced Freddo for _Stiles_ , Blueberry Mocha Iced Freddo for Scott!" The barista called, shoving the cups across the counter with some straws.

"Blueberry mocha?" Scott repeated, picking up his cup warily.

"It's good," Stiles said. "We can trade if you don't like it, though."

Scott nodded and sipped the purple drink. "Okay, it's good. Let me try yours." 

"No," Stiles laughed, dodging when Scott lunged for his cup.

They tussled for the cup playfully until Scott nearly dropped his and called a truce. 

"What's that?" he asked, straightening his shirt.

"What?"

"Dude, you got a _tattoo?_ " Scott asked gleefully, grabbing Stiles' arm and shoving the sleeve up, turning it so the pale underside of his upper arm was exposed and glowing in the sun. 

The "tattoo" Scott had seen was shimmering deep blue, a strong line on top of what could loosely be described as an unfinished five-point star. 

"It's a project I'm working on. That's the sigil for protection. I'll explain later. It's _not_ a tattoo," he added because Scott still looked thrilled.

"Then why'd you put it where no one would see it?" he asked smugly.

"If I hadn't wanted anyone to see it, I'd have put it on my ass," Stiles retorted.

"I have seen your ass more times than I ever needed to," Scott shot back remorsefully. "Now let's go because my mom keeps texting me asking if you're here yet."

"Oh, damn." Stiles got in the driver's seat and quickly texted his mother that he was on his way.

Her reply was _Don't text and drive._

He sent her a picture of the keys in the cupholder. _Not_

_Then you've lied to me, you're NOT on your way._

Scott burst out laughing. "Claudia-1, Stiles-0."

Stiles scowled at him. "You are going to be twenty in two months, my _sister_ is more mature than you."

"I know. Cora told me the same thing yesterday."

They bickered harmlessly all the way to the Hale house. Nate's Sheriff's cruiser was parked outside, along with Melissa's van, and Claudia's small white pickup truck. 

"What is _that_?" Stiles asked, gaping at the very small black Camaro nestled between Talia's Mazda and Aaron's Charger.

"Um," Scott began, snickering, "I think it's Derek's new car?"

" _Why?_ No, don't answer, never mind. He's probably trying to make everyone forget the reinforced braces he had to wear for six months." 

Scott choked. "I forgot about those! He messed up his teeth chewing on a baseball bat or something, right?"

"Yeah. His gums healed, remember, but his teeth weren't _hurt_ or broken so they got stuck all-" He used his fingers to mime crooked and twisted teeth until Scott almost cried from laughing.

"I hear you two!" Talia called from the door. "Hurry up and come inside, we're all waiting anxiously to pounce on Stiles!"

"We're coming," he said, climbing out.

Before they made it to the porch, Peter and Mandy's silver Commander pulled up. Stiles turned around to wave, his hand falling when he caught sight of his sister, Cora, and Erica in the back seat, along with two boys in the third row. Dru's head was down and Cora looked steamed.

"What happened?" Talia asked as she stepped outside.

"Oh, man," Nate said with Claudia on his heels.

Peter got out and opened the door for the teenagers. "I found this group of hellions fighting some boys at the mall, Sheriff," he said sedately. 

"Dru," Claudia began, but stopped before she could laugh.

"I can explain, I swear," Dru said earnestly. She caught sight of Stiles, though, and let out a war cry, flying past Peter to throw herself at him. "You're BACK!"

Some of her curls got in his mouth, the rest obscuring his vision, but he didn't mind. She was pulsing out excited energy, clinging to him like he might try to run. 

"The guy totally deserved the broken nose," she hissed fiercely in his ear.

He started laughing and kissed her cheek. "I bet."

"Yeah, I think you should tell us what happened."

"Oh. Ummmm, sure, Mom." Dru slowly let go of Stiles and sidled back toward her friends. "Oh, look, Dad's here too," she mumbled, making Scott snicker.

"What _happened_ , Dru?" Nate asked seriously.

"Well..." she began, scuffing her sneaker through the dirt. "We were at the mall, playing around, and we were talking about how werewolves' eyes change, and Isaac said he didn't know that, so Cora showed him, right?" she said in a rush. "Well, my food was cold, then, so I did a warming spell and was showing Boyd how to do it, no big deal, and these guys a table over asked if I was a witch, so I said yeah."

Stiles got a bad feeling about everything when Cora started to turn red.

"And?" Claudia prompted.

"And they asked if _my friend_ was, I told them she was a werewolf and they started laughing and called her a witch bitch. And, um, I punched himandCoracalledPetertheend."

"The end?"

Dru sighed, glanced at Cora, who said, "I did pull her off of him, but then his friends--there were six guys!--jumped in and then, you know, Boyd and Isaac had to jump in and _Erica_ called Uncle Peter and the guys ran off before mall security got there and anyway, Uncle Peter got there before security, too, so _really_ there's no reason to be mad because no one got caught?"

Claudia held up a finger. "Dru, what did you say the boy called Cora?"

Dru looked at her shoes and mumbled, "He called her a witch bitch."

"Witch bitch" was derogatory term for a werewolf that hung around with witches, coming from when witches used to keep werewolves as pets of sorts, about 319 years ago.

Humans were so _stupid_ sometimes. 

"C'mon, Dad," Stiles burst out. "Don't act like you wouldn't have done the same thing."

Nate sighed. "I'm not answering that, son. You're not in trouble, Dru. Just try not to start anymore fights."

"Start!" Dru protested. "I didn't start-"

"You threw the first punch, even provoked."

Talia made a face. "How about the sheriff goes back to the office and Nate joins us for the barbecue and camp out?"

Nate scowled at her until Claudia poked his ribs and made him laugh.

While the group of adults went inside, Dru dragged Stiles over to her friends--after Peter had winked at Cora and left.

"Guys, _this_ is my brother, Stiles," she said grandly, tugging on his arm.

By the curious and measuring looks, Stiles could guess that Dru had talked about him. A lot.

"That's Isaac, you've met Erica, and that's Boyd. They're gonna stay and camp with us tonight."

Isaac was tall with shoulders that curled in as if he could make himself smaller, dusty brown-blond curls tumbling low over his brow and nearly hiding wary blue eyes. 

Boyd was his opposite, broad shoulders back, chin tipped back with confidence. His dark hair was short, leaving the angles of his cheekbones and jaw unobscured. He smiled just a little when Stiles nodded at him.

Erica looked different. Her curly blond hair was down for once, and she was wearing a tight white tank top and blue jeans; her skin had a healthy tan to it, and she met Stiles' glance with a wolfish grin.

"Um," Stiles began sharply, "when were you going to _tell_ me?"

Erica laughed and Dru giggled.

"Mom talked to Erica and her parents about her epilepsy," Cora said, bored. "Erica wanted the bite and her parents said okay, so...new pack sister. You'd have known if you'd have come _home_ in March."

Stiles shrugged. He had his story and he was sticking to it: busy with homework over break.

"Um, now is also a good time to mention that Boyd is getting lessons from Mom," Dru said cheerfully. "His family's magick skipped a generation or two but he's got it. Ta-da!"

Stiles glanced at Boyd again, eyes narrowing in concentration. He could just feel the energy of untrained and neglected power. His mother would have noticed it and told Boyd about it right away, then. 

"Well, welcome to the family, guys?" he laughed, shrugging.

Boyd cracked a smile that made Erica bite her lip.

"Oh, yeah, Scott, can you drive Isaac home later?" Dru asked suddenly after Isaac had given her a pleading look. "He can't stay the night. His...parent wants him home by seven."

Scott looked surprised. "Um, sure, I mean, if Stiles lets me borrow his Jeep or-"

"You'll be able to borrow _someone's_ car, surely," Cora scoffed, gesturing at the many cars parked on the dirt driveway.

Stiles asked, _**Why Scott specifically?**_ Because it was a strange request.

Dru didn't jump. _**Isaac is hiding something about his parent and Scott can be our plant.**_ She smiled a little, but her eyes were sad.

"We've still got quite a few hours before seven, though. Let's go in before they devour all the good food."

They all trailed inside and toward the backyard and if Stiles used the excited babbling and shuffling to slip away, well, no one ever had to know. He went to the second floor, third door on the left and knocked.

"Sleeping," came the gruff reply.

Stiles rolled his eyes and shoved the door open. "How immature can you get, pretending to-" his voice came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Derek burrowed under his downs comforter, one single leg hanging over the edge of the bed, toes just barely touching the carpet. 

"Okay, you really were sleeping. Uh..." _Ouch_. It wasn't like he'd been expecting a hug and blubbering but they _had_ been friends before the weirdness of last fall.

Derek grunted and sat up quickly. He swiveled his head, blinking blearily. "What time is it?" he croaked in what was probably a fair imitation of a death rattle. 

Stiles started laughing, that laughter that just rolled up from the gut, loud and goofy and true, while Derek sat in his blanket nest with bedhead and a disgruntled scowl on his face. 

"Aha, aha," Stiles finally managed, gasping. "Okay, s-sorry," he stammered, gulping in air. "Gods, you're so serious all the time, with the-the bedhead and a Wolverine t-shirt." 

"I couldn't sleep last night," Derek said with great dignity for a man currently wearing one sock on his foot and the other stuck to his leg with sweat.

Stiles physically _shook_ with the effort it took to contain himself. "Oh my _Gods_ ," he finally gasped. "Man, my ribs hurt. It's two in the afternoon." 

The scowl cleared off Derek's face. "You're _late_ ," he accused.

"How do you know, Sleeping Beauty?" Stiles shot, snickering.

"You were supposed to be back at noon."

"Traffic."

Derek nodded, and then they fell silent, because they'd both started thinking about the same thing. 

"I'm sorry-" Derek began at the same time that Stiles started to say, "I'm not gonna-"

They stared at each other.

"Can I go first?" Derek asked in a rush, so Stiles nodded. "I'm _sorry_ for what I said--how I acted- it was selfish and mean and I'm sorry." 

Before Stiles had left for college, _literally_ two days before, Derek had asked to talk to him, had kissed him and begged him not to go.

Stiles had heard those pleas every bad day he'd had while at school, _Please, Stiles, please don't go. Stay with us. Please._

At the time, Stiles had been furious--rightfully, he liked to think--that not only was Derek making him feel guilty for wanting to learn more, but also because Derek had waited until Stiles was _leaving town_ to finally act on his feelings. The feelings that Stiles hadn't realized he'd _had_.

"Well," Stiles started, shifting his feet. "I was saying, um, that I wasn't going to apologize for going to college, because I got in and I _wanted_ to go." 

Derek nodded eagerly. "Yes. _Yeah_. I get that. Like I said--I was being selfish- I didn't want you to leave." H e swallowed, making his throat click. "And, um, you know, then you were gone and I felt awful and I figured you wanted to spend winter break with the family--also," he added before Stiles could glare at him, "I didn't know what to say."

"That apology was a good start," Stiles offered.

Derek nodded, shuffling toward the edge of his bed. "So...are you gonna stay for camping?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "We'll be in your back _yard_ , why does everyone call it _camping_?"

They argued about that every summer.

"Because we can't use the house for anything--except the bathroom, " he tacked on because Talia was enforcing the rule.

Stiles sighed loudly. "It's not camping if it's in your backyard."

Derek just looked at him for a long moment. "Are you still mad?" he asked quietly.

Stiles let out a breath and finally entered Derek's room, closing the door behind him. "No, I'm not mad." He stopped beside the bed, tilted his head at Derek, who stood up quickly.

"I didn't apologize for kissing you," he said meticulously. 

Stiles dipped his head. "Noted."

"Because I wasn't sorry for kissing you," he continued.

"Good. I wasn't mad about it."

"Good."

"Great."

"Yeah." 

Stiles lowered his brows and tried to mimic Derek's concentration face. "Should I? Or should I wait-"

Derek wrapped his fist in Stiles' t-shirt and yanked him up on his toes, kissing him very lightly, a peck, to contrast the yank.

"Oh my _Gods_ , that is not a k-" 

Derek bit his bottom lip. "Shut up," he muttered, flicking his tongue lightly over the bite, slipping between Stiles' lips to trace the inner curve of his upper lip.

Stiles sighed into it, reaching up to tangle his fingers in the back of Derek's bedhead, his other hand cupping Derek's hip to keep his balance.

"Are you done yet?" Laura asked, tapping the door. "We're hungry and we want to see Stiles!"

"Go away!" Derek snapped, but Stiles was already slipping away, laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's ages: Laura 25, Derek 23, Colin, Stiles, Scott: 19, Cora and Dru 15, Isaac and Erica are 17, Boyd is 18.
> 
> The rest of the kids that are in the Hale house are Peter's kids (Jen, 12, Alena, 9, and Carter, 5), Jean 14, and Riki 10. 
> 
>  //What was my rushed brain thinking and why did I put 319 years? That is oddly specific, but I guess Stiles would know the exact date they stopped keeping werewolf pets...>.>
> 
> Also, random note about me: I used to work at Peet's when I lived in CA. :D


	3. Shoulda Known Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, I'm so sorry for this chapter. I feel like it's terrible. There's talking about feelings which I'm not so good at, and also I don't know how to end kissy scenes unless it's by using the interruption thing, which, coming from a huge family as I do, I know is all too routine with that anyway. 
> 
> I'm much better at the grab-each-other-and-fuck-up-against-a-door scenes than I am at feelings and talking so if the dialogue is stilted or awkward...I'm sorry. OTL
> 
> I'm also much better at magick scenes and fight scenes and I'm more comfortable so this got me out of my comfort zone I guess. I'm babbling because I'm nervous that it'll be awful.

**Chapter Three**

Outside, there were two large grills going, a couple folding tables straining under the weight of snacks, and about four coolers spread around.

Erica and Cora were sitting with Boyd and Isaac sharing plates the size of serving trays while Dru tried to steal a sip of Laura’s strawberry daiquiri by asking her what she even needed it for. 

Jen, Alena, Carter, and Riki chased each other around the adults and older kids while Jean, 14 and “too old for that” sat with Colin and Scott as they chattered about food.

Teresa, Jean’s mother, was watching with a smirk.

“Hey, handsome,” Claudia said, spotting Derek. She’d called him that since the braces incident when his self-esteem had plummeted. 

“Hi,” Derek replied, a genuine smile widening his mouth.

“Glad you decided to grace us with your presence. We were worried,” she chastised, and he actually looked guilty. 

“Derek,” Talia called from her place in front of one of the grills, “can you make sure your father has taken _all_ of the potatoes out of the oven?”

Derek laughed, reached out to squeeze Stiles’ hand, and ducked back inside.

Stiles grinned at his mother. 

“I take it you two made up, finally,” she said, amused.

He nodded. “He apologized right away. And we worked some things out.” 

“Oh? Like?”

“Like visiting on weekends being an actual thing that people do, and the wonders of cell phones and internet that even witches have access to.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Is he going to take you out at all?”

Stiles’ grinned faltered. “We didn’t talk that much.”

Claudia hummed again, more ominously. “Well, maybe you should talk more.” 

“Maybe I don’t wanna be taken out.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Anyone else, sure, I’d buy that.” She shrugged. “But a close family friend, like Derek? You wouldn’t risk something going wrong for even the most perfect of a person if it was just a tussle.”

“We wouldn’t be tussling,” he pointed out with a snicker.

“You know what I meant, but I’d be more than happy to have another discussion about anatomy with you, sweetie.”

“No, thanks, Mom,” he muttered, flushing with horror at the memory of it the first time around.

She smiled. “Now…As I said, you wouldn’t risk it if it was just to get laid.”

“Risk?” He tried not to squeak—or wince in mortification when his mother uttered the phrase “just to get laid”. “C’mon, Mom, I… _obviously_ do _not_ want to talk about this with very sharp ears around.”

She let out a _pft_ of dismissal. “As if I wouldn’t mute our conversation to them. What kind of witch do you take me for?”

“The best kind,” he said with an affectionate smile.

But before she could interrogate him further, Dru had come vaulting up the steps with the usual grace of the Stilinski siblings, breaking the privacy spell.

“Mom, can I show Boyd how to mark? _Please_?” 

“Dru, he’s only doing sensory spells—colored light and music,” Claudia said patiently.

“Mom,” Dru said very seriously, “he can do it. And if he can’t, it’s no big deal, right? I’ll just show him mine, and-“

Stiles snickered at the look on Nate’s face as he caught the last part of Dru’s pleas.

“Show him your…what? Who is him?”

Dru fluttered her lashes. “Derek kissed Stiles,” she said sweetly and ducked away before Stiles could grab at her, running to hide behind Laura, who was laughing openly at him.

Colin was gaping at Stiles from his seat, as if somehow this information about his brother and his friend just did not compute.

Scott gave him a helpful backslap.

“Well,” Nate said slowly, “I suppose since you’re technically a legal adult-“

“Sheriff Stilinski,” Claudia simpered, “I thought that was you. If you see my husband, can you ask him to please show his face and talk to his son like a human instead of a weird baby alien?” 

Nate shot her a baffled look, the same one Stiles had seen his whole life. Claudia and Stiles had a warped sense of humor. 

“I—he’s four years older than him, Claud,” Nate muttered. “He’s my kid, I’m allowed to worry.”

“Or,” Claudia said, “you can do what I was doing and just talk to him about it. What a novel idea.” She kissed the corner of Nate’s mouth, laughed when he sighed at her. 

Talia said, “Hey, if you see Aaron, tell him he owes me fifty bucks.”

“Excuse me,” Melissa said from her chair, “I think I was the closer bet. You said 4th of July, I said June 23rd!”

Stiles’ mouth popped open. “What.”

“Pardon me, ladies, I believe that _I_ won that bet.”

“You guys made bets on-“

Claudia nodded. “Well, they said you guys would make up some time this summer, and chose days. I joined in, baby boy, because these idiots were so wrong. They seemed to think Derek cared more about his pride than you or that you’d rather avoid him than deal with the problem.”

He cracked a smile. “It’s like they don’t know me at all.”

“Right?” she laughed, slinging her arm around his neck and hugging him as tightly as she could. “I missed you, but I’m definitely collecting the money from winning that bet, baby.”

From behind them came a choked noise from Derek, who’d walked out with a tray full of steaming baked potatoes.

Aaron was trying to sidle past him, but Derek and Claudia pinned him with a look, each that spoke volumes.

“ _Dad,_ ” Derek started.

Aaron gave an easy smile. “We’ve all been waiting for you two to make up. Things were getting tense on the home front,” he said simply, and ruffled Derek’s hair while his hands were too full to fix it.

Stiles caught Derek’s cautious look out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t respond to it, didn’t know how.

Was he supposed to tell Derek how he’d been curious about him since they’d met, then interested in him since he was sixteen, possibly before? Right here where their parents plus some could hear? Was he being prompted by that sideways look, or was he overreacting?

“Mo- _om_ ,” Dru called, “can I show him or what?”

Claudia sighed, narrowed her eyes enough that Dru mumbled an apology for her tone. “You can _try_ ,” she called back. “Just don’t push it, guys.”

“We won’t, Mrs. Stilinski,” Boyd said, standing quickly.

Claudia smiled at him. “It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s Wrecking Ball Stilinski.”

Dru’s answering smile dropped away. “It was _once!_ You guys never let anything _go,_ ” she muttered. “Are you coming?” she asked Cora, Erica, and Isaac.

“We are,” Colin said, nudging Scott.

Melissa’s head popped up, her Scott-radar going off. “Where are you going?”

“Just into the tree line, Ms. McCall,” Dru explained. “To get away from the group so Boyd can concentrate.”

She nodded, eyes tracking Scott as the group gathered. 

Stiles started to go with—he wanted to see how Dru planned to teach Boyd to mark—but hesitated, glancing at Derek.

Growing up, it had mainly been one of two ways at the Hale house—either the kids _all_ played around together, or Derek had something to do. Occasionally, he’d ditch Laura and her truly terrifying driving lessons to chase Colin and Stiles around the yard or trick Dru into spraying water at Cora, but basically, he’d fallen into the older group, and Stiles had been in the younger one.

That is to say, Stiles wasn’t sure if inviting Derek to the group at the trees would be awkward or if his staying away would be.

Derek smirked at him. “Come on, let’s see how much damage Dru does before figuring out how to show Boyd what to do.”

Stiles laughed. “She’s not that bad. Just less controlled with her magick than strictly wise.”

“She destroyed the garage!”

“She put it back! It wasn’t destroyed, anyway. She took it apart with a bad ring and index finger press on an undoing spell,” Stiles explained patiently. “If I remember right, she was trying to unknot the rope _you_ tied around Cora’s bike wheels.”

Derek laughed, eyes sparkling at the memory. “Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah’s right.”

They came up on the group and eased their way around to see Dru and Boyd.

Dru looked frustrated and it was almost eerie how much of himself Stiles saw in his sister; apart from their coloring, they had the same upturned nose and narrow faces. While Stiles had a scattering of moles on his left cheek and sides of his neck, Dru’s nose and cheeks were covered in freckles and she had one small mole a finger width away from the left corner of her mouth like the end of an exclamation point, marking the end of everything she said.

“Dru, _how?_ ” Cora managed through her laughter.

Stiles glanced at the tree. “Oh.”

Dru shot him a glower. “Not a word.” Her gaze landed on Derek. “From _either_ of you.”

The poor tree had seven or eight of Dru’s marks on the trunk, all spiky, excited edges and bold inner lines.

“I just got, um, overzealous.”

Scott patted her arm sympathetically. “We’ve all been there, ‘Sil. Why don’t you tell Boyd how to do it?”

Colin, still snickering over Scott’s comment, took a step back. When Boyd looked insulted, he just grinned. “I was here for Dru’s energy training, man. I’ve learned a lesson. Losing both your eyebrows in one fell swoop is enough of a lesson for anyone.” 

Scott and Isaac took hasty steps back.

“Oh, very funny,” Cora snapped. “Cowards.”

Stiles had a feeling Scott, Isaac, and Colin were the safest, especially with Dru “Just-Jump-in-and-Give-it-Everything-You’ve-Got-I-do-Mean-Everything” Stilinski giving the instructions.

“You’re gonna put up a wall if it comes toward us, right?” Derek asked quietly.

“Worried about your eyebrows?”

“Recalling what Colin looked like for three hours while his grew back, _yes_.”

Stiles grinned.

Dru told Boyd, “Okay, you can most definitely _feel_ your magick, right?”

He nodded.

“Good. So, try to push it just a little at the tree. Don’t think too hard!” she warned.

Stiles bit back a groan. Smart as she was, magick came a little _too_ naturally to Dru. She taught herself spells through experimentation rather than studying, and did what felt right rather than what was written or taught to her. It was a method that worked fine for her and, in her defense, quite a few other witches, more than any of them had thought. But most people needed better than “it will _feel_ right.”

Boyd looked frustrated and a little put out, even though it wasn’t his fault, so Stiles said, “Dru?”

She bit her lip. “I know,” she sighed. “Don’t say it. Okay, Boyd.” She took a breath and visibly brightened again, that unflagging cheerfulness that was deeply part of her personality. “Cast your senses. Can you feel your own energy?”

Boyd was relaxing a little now. “Yeah.”

Stiles saw the moment he started to understand what Dru had meant about pushing his energy at the tree; he began to practically glow with energy, the smell of melting plastic filling the air.

“Whoa,” Erica muttered, watching.

“Put your hand on the tree,” Dru instructed, dancing on the balls of her feet.

Boyd did as instructed. Before his hand made contact, a greenish spark of energy popped from his palm to the tree, quickly forming the blackened lines of Boyd’s mark.

He dropped his hand and stared at it.

Boyd’s mark was long rather than circular, curving lines curling and twining together like looping threads all connecting at the bottom that looked inexplicably like an infinity symbol.

“Why’s it so long?”

Erica barked out a laugh, Cora snickered. Even Derek made a muffled choking noise.

“Different clans of witches,” Dru said brightly. “Your bloodline.”

Stiles explained, “People with circular marks were supposedly scholars while people with long, vertical marks were said to be talented at making their own new spells.”

“Basically your clan created them, and ours wrote them down and taught them,” Dru put in with a wide grin. 

“Cool,” Boyd said, studying the mark again.

“ _Very_ cool,” Dru agreed cheerfully. “Let’s go tell Mom that-“

“Dru,” Erica said, “why don’t we lay off the lessons for today and actually _enjoy_ summer?”

Dru looked hurt for a moment. Then she flicked a glance toward Boyd and back to Erica. Her expression cleared. “Okay, let’s go get food and let _those two_ talk.” She flashed a grin at Stiles, elbowing Derek on her way past.

Cora laughed and followed with Isaac close enough behind to make them take a second look. They were holding hands, Isaac’s knuckles white like he was scared and holding on for comfort. 

“I think your sister wants us to talk,” Derek said, amused.

Over his shoulder, Stiles could see Cora making horrifying kissy faces, lots of creepy wagging tongue that made him feel a little sorry for Isaac.

“I think _your_ sister wants us to kiss.”

Derek snorted. “We could,” he shrugged, “just to see how she reacts.”

“Oh, it’s just to see how _she_ reacts?” Stiles smiled, shook his head. “C’mon, let’s get outta earshot so we can talk.”

They didn’t get far before Colin and Scott started texting Stiles, and Laura and Peter started texting Derek.

“It’s like they don’t trust us,” Stiles complained, scrolling through Scott’s four encouraging texts and Colin’s single “bro”. Scott then sent a picture of Colin’s confused face, his lips and brows drawn down, eyes wide. “He looks like you when he does that.”

“Poor Colin,” Derek laughed after Stiles showed him.

“He’s the only one acting remotely surprised,” Stiles pointed out.

“That’s because my parents talked to me about…uh, you, years ago, and I talked to Laura about it…and Peter’s never surprised by anything.” He shrugged self-consciously. 

“Talked…about…me,” Stiles echoed, glancing at Derek’s flushed face.

“Well, uh, yeah. They noticed that I—um, and they asked me what was going on.”

“What are you talking about?”

Derek sighed. “You were fifteen! So when my mom noticed me watching you—she notices _everything_ \--she and dad talked to me about, well, for one thing, how I felt, and for another, the age gap-“

“It’s _four years,_ ” Stiles cut in, annoyed.

“Yes, but a few years ago, that meant I was twenty and you were sixteen. Your dad’s the sheriff. You do the math. You were way too young.”

“You let me think you weren’t interested _back_ \--you let me sit there, _miserable_ because no matter what I did you didn’t notice me—and it was because-“ he frowned at Derek, trying to figure out _how_ mad he was going to let himself get. “Okay, how about we both just forget whatever that conversation was for a few and have an actual discussion about, oh man, our feelings.”

“How mature,” Derek said dryly, watching as Stiles tried to control the facial contortions.

Stiles sighed. “I wish there was an easier way to handle this. Can’t we just make out all the time and skip the talking? No,” he said before Derek could attempt to reply. “Because that’ll just lead to misunderstandings and hurt feelings and awkwardness.”

Derek furrowed his brows. “Right. Well, you know my side of things—I wasn’t sure how you’d react anyway, so it was simpler to keep all thoughts and feelings to myself, at least until you were eighteen, but then I guess the idea of you leaving freaked me out.”

“I never would’ve guessed, Smooth Criminal,” Stiles cracked.

Derek scowled at him. “I am _just_ trying to put everything out there for you. Just because you always work better with every detail.” He flushed when Stiles continued to stare at him.

“Right. Okay. Question.” He waited until Derek nodded to ask, “Why did you wait until the last second to say anything to me?”

Derek crossed his arms defensively. “Because I knew it was petty and selfish to say anything, so I was…arguing with myself, and then Colin asked me to help bring your crap from your room down to the Jeep and it sunk in that you were going away.”

_Going away. Like a kid with abandonment issues._

“And you decided o let me in on your feelings at that time?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“Wasn’t my proudest moment,” Derek mumbled. “I’ve reasoned that I had unresolved issues with our…relationship at the time—which was just barely friends—and that I worked myself into a state of idiocy and panicked.”

“How many times did you practice that before you figured out just the right words for that little speech?”

Derek let out a surprised laugh but didn’t answer.

“Okay, okay, my turn. Childishness _aside_ ,” Stiles said pointedly, “I thought for awhile that I just had a crush on you since you were around as much as Colin but I didn’t get to know you as well.”

“The intrigue of the mysterious older brother. I like it,” Derek decided.

“Sounds like a Lifetime movie to me,” Stiles muttered. “Anyway, when you started hanging around us a little more, and I got to know you more and, uh, it didn’t go away. The way it did with Lyida or Danny or Laura.”

Derek had been nodding but stopped rather abruptly, shocked. “You had a crush on _Laura_?”

Stiles shrugged. “She’s pretty. My fifteen-year-old self had good taste. She is also terrifying. My fifteen-year-old self realized that and admired from afar.”

“So…when…”

“I dunno. Are we _really_ going to try this—dating thing, Derek?”

“Yes,” he said firmly and quickly, making Stiles laugh.

“Dating is so _awkward,_ man.” He sighed.

“We know each other, though.” As if that made it better.

“That’s probably going to make it ten times worse. We know each other _too_ well. I remember Jennifer. Christ,” he yelped because how awful was that of him to bring her up? “Forget this! I give up.” Stiles almost made a run for it, had actually made it two steps before Derek’s arm locked around his waist and lifted him off his feet, dragging him back.

“Excuse me, if I can handle looking at your face when I have a clear mental image of the birthmark on your right ass cheek from when you, Scott, and Colin went swimming, you can handle my failed relationships.”

Stiles’ cheeks burned. “That was maybe not our most well-thought out plan. In our defense, it was three AM, you should’ve been at home sleeping.” He squinted over his shoulder at Derek. “What were you doing out there?”

“Looking for you three,” he admitted. “I kept getting this awful jittery feeling and I panicked when Colin’s room and the kitchen were empty.”

“You said you were jogging. Do you _see_ why this awkward talk was necessary? We will circle the subject and miscommunicate and it’s not _getting_ us anywhere.” 

“Stiles, Jesus, the skinny dipping thing was like six years ago. Trust me, at that time in my life, I was more interested in Jennifer than your ass.” When Stiles looked offended, Derek smiled hesitantly and added, “But it’s a very nice ass anyway?”

“Damn right it is.” Stiles sighed , slowing down so Derek was walking beside him. “What’re we doing?”

“We are gonna go to a movie and dinner on Friday,” Derek said, drawing Stiles closer to him. “We’re gonna pretend we don’t know weird things about each other.” He kissed the corner of Stiles’ mouth. “Or, radical idea here, we can even act like the weird things we know about each other are good because it proves that we like each other even at our dumbest or saddest.”

Stiles scowled at him. “You sound old.”

“If by old you mean wise, optimistic, and reasonable, I accept.” Derek bit his lip, then, laughing, grabbed Stiles around the waist and lifted him up against a tree trunk. “ _Smile_ Stiles, Gods, you act like this is a bad thing.” His smile started to slip away and Stiles was sad to see it go. “Hey, if you aren’t even sure you want to do this-“

“That’s not it,” Stiles said hastily, wrapping his legs around Derek’s waist to hold him in place. “I just want to make sure we talk about everything up front.”

Derek studied him, his eyes momentarily seeing way too much. “Did something…happen?”

“Happen? No.” Stiles smiled. “You know I like to get details mapped out with stuff that matters. You matter. Your _family_ matters, and whatever happens between us matters. So maybe I’m a little uncomfortable talking about it, but that’s better than things going bad just because we didn’t talk _enough_.” He tipped his head forward so their foreheads met. He smiled when Derek looked at him, his pretty hazel eyes melding together into one eye from so close.

“Are we done being responsible?” Derek whispered.

Amused, Stiles whispered back, “For now.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, _we_ can kiss now.” He traced his lips lightly down Derek’s nose and across his cheeks before finally pressing them lightly to Derek’s plaint, waiting mouth. When he parted his lips, Stiles huffed a laugh, nipping at his top lip. “You brushed your teeth between that first kiss and now.”

“You’re welcome,” Derek growled, his hands slipping down Stiles’ sides to grip his hips.

They both jolted when Stiles’ phone started crooning Thunderstruck by AC/DC, signaling his mother’s call.

“Hello?” he answered cautiously.

“If you two are done,” Claudia said sweetly, “Laura has told me to relay to you that the hotdogs are all gone, and there are only a few steaks left. There might possibly be some burgers.”

“But-“ Stiles sputtered to the sound of her hanging up. He was also dropped unceremoniously as Derek strained toward the food like, well, like a dog on a leash. “Oh, run home then. You better save some for me!”

Derek laughed as he ran away, and Stiles chased him.


	4. Face Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you know that phrase or quote "write drunk, edit sober"? Not good advice when you're way too excited to wait to edit it. Not that I was drunk. Lightly buzzed, we'll say. ???Inappropriate, I suppose, sorry! But I really hated that last chapter, and I really like this one (even though it's MINUSCULE compared to the others). I don't know how to fix that last chapter. It was awkward but necessary. Sorry everyone!
> 
> I could have done better. :(

**Face Down**

 

When it started to get late, after Scott had driven Isaac home and Dru had fallen asleep slumped against Talia’s shoulder, they all split up and crawled into their tents.

Stiles, Scott, and Colin shared one like they always did, though it was a tighter squeeze than it used to be. Colin wiggled down between them comfortably and sighed. He turned his head and sniffed at Stiles shoulder. 

“You smell like Derek, man.”

“I _always_ smell like you guys,” Stiles pointed out.

“You know what I mean. Is that gonna be a thing now?”

“Maybe? We’re going out on Friday.”

Colin contemplated this, his cheek still resting on Stiles’ shoulder. “What’re you doing?” he asked finally, shifting to put his leg on top of Scott’s.

Once werewolves decide to like you, personal space goes out the window unless you flat tell them to get off you. It was okay, actually. 

“We have tentative plans to go see a movie,” Stiles answered, blowing at the tufts of Colin’s dark hair that were tickling his neck.

“What movie?” 

“Colin,” Scott laughed, “they just made plans, today, for _Friday_. They’ll figure it out.”

Colin grumbled and shifted around. “I just want to make sure. Like, Derek should know that Stiles gets queasy during gore movies and Stiles should know that straight comedy annoys Derek.”

“Why…?”

Colin smiled. “Just some tips. You’re both hopeless.”

Scott laughed, but it sounded odd, strained.

Outside their tent they heard Talia telling Claudia and Nate to share the tent with her and Aaron.

The Hale pack rarely stayed in their tents the whole night. They would leave their sleeping bags and curling up in the middle of the yard, in a pile of tangled limbs and varicolored fur. Though some of the kids—Alena, Riki, and Jean—were human, they still joined in the pile. Sometimes Scott, Stiles, and Dru did, too.

Melissa, Claudia, and Nate hadn’t grown up with the werewolves the way the other three had, though. They weren’t _quite_ comfortable enough to pile in with shifted werewolves.

“Hey, Colin?” Scott said quietly. “Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“What…do you think of me…asking Talia for the bite?”

Colin shifted so he was facing Scott, curling into a ball so his spine was up against Stiles’ side and he could look at Scott.

“It’d be cool,” he said simply, yawning.

Scott’s eyes shifted to Stiles. 

“Why do you want it?” he asked, nudging Colin’s leg off of his.

“I’ve…I mean, I wanted to in high school, when I couldn’t _do_ anything. Because of my asthma, you know. But I was too scared to ask. Not so much now. But I wanted to talk to you guys first.” 

Stiles nodded. “You should do what’s best for you, man. If that’s getting the bite, becoming part of the Hale pack, talk to Talia. We’ll help.” 

Colin started laughing. “You’re already pack, you idiots,” he mumbled, nuzzling a bit closer to both of them and falling asleep. 

“Did you know that?” Scott asked quietly.

“I never really thought about it,” Stiles admitted. “They did start treating us like family after awhile.” He sighed, accepting his fate when Colin moved closer. 

Scott turned on his side. “That Isaac kid is afraid of his dad,” he said very softly.

Between them, Colin stiffened, waking from his doze, apparently.

“How do you know that?” Stiles asked just as quietly. 

Too many listening ears. He wondered if he should do a privacy spell, if it was worth the effort. Privacy spells were two handed, ten-fingered spells, not the most difficult, but certainly more complicated than most daily used spells.

“Uh,” Scott began, shifting his eyes toward Stiles’ hands.

Sighing, Stiles performed the spell carefully; if he pressed too hard or too lightly with the wrong finger, it would change the spell, or weaken or strengthen it.

“Okay,” Stiles said once he felt the spell settle.

“So, Mr. Lahey was waiting for us when I pulled up,” Scott began, completely trusting of Stiles’ abilities. “And Isaac thanked me for driving him and jumped out. He was white as a sheet, and Mr. Lahey…I don’t know. He waved and put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. He didn’t flinch or anything, but he looked sick and scared.” Scott shifted uncomfortably. “We should tell your dad.” 

Colin asked, “Tell him _what?_ Hey, Sheriff, we think Isaac was afraid of being home late?”

Scott frowned. “No, but you _know_ he’d listen if we said we thought something was wrong.” He shifted up on his elbows, getting into his argument. “Dru said that Isaac rarely ever goes out with them, and at school he gets really upset if his grade is less than perfect.”

“Some people _care_ about their grades, Scott,” Stiles said.

“She said—and Cora backed her up, she wasn’t exaggerating—that last week their chemistry teacher told him he didn’t follow the instructions right—she tried to correct him, but Dru said that he completely lost it. He apologized and promised he’d make it better, he’d fix it and it wouldn’t happen again, he was sorry. He completely freaked out. The teacher had to take him to the nurse.”

“Panic attack,” Stiles murmured. “He’ll probably check into it if we ask, but…”

“What?”

“If _Lahey_ is hurting Isaac,” Colin said, “he might get angry and hurt him more if he thinks Isaac is telling anyone.”

Scott set his jaw. “We should tell the sheriff. What if it’s actually something going on? And we didn’t say anything.” 

Stiles nodded. “The problem is if Dad doesn’t find anything, Isaac could be in more trouble. He’d have to find _proof_.”

Scott looked bothered, so Colin bumped his knee against his hip.

“I’m gonna talk to the Sherriff tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll know how to handle it.” 

Stiles was, too, but he wondered if Isaac would lie, defend his father.

_Or,_ he thought tiredly, _Isaac is just a really nervous kid who is a perfectionist. What if he has OCD and HAS to be home on time, **has** to follow directions exactly?_

_Then there isn’t anything wrong with Dad checking it out._

He drifted on these thoughts, partially asleep, dreaming of the sound of shattering glass and a door slamming shut, the harsh click of a padlock. 

When Colin left the tent, he woke up enough to grunt and roll over, sinking back into his dreams and finding Derek there, instead of wide, teary blue eyes.


	5. Teenagers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was away from the computer for a bit. It was awful. Umm, the next couple chapters are going to be Dru's view on things, but, like, don't get upset. We get to see Stiles use some magick now!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone that's commented and left kudos--you all rock. I'm glad you like it and I hope it doesn't suck! <3

**Teenagers**

“Okay, Dru, Derek just left to get Stiles. I still don’t see why he had to go _home_ to get ready,” Cora added, rolling her eyes.

Erica looked up from her phone. “Would _you_ want to be sharing bathroom space with Isaac while you were getting ready for a date with him?”

Cora shrugged. “I’m not dating Isaac.” She sighed and looked at Dru, who was texting rapidly.

“Boyd’s on his way. Erica, can you drive us? Isaac might be able to come if we give him a ride.” 

“Give him a ride where?” Erica demanded.

Dru took her time looking up from her phone, blinking innocently, as if she didn’t understand the question. “We’re going to follow Derek and Stiles to the theater.”

Cora snorted. “Derek will smell us, even in a theater. Especially because we’re all together.”

Dru nodded. “I know. Stiles would sense me, too, like he always does. We’re not going _in_ the theater by them…I mean, that’d be creepy, watching them from the back row. We’re not stalkers, we’re sisters.”

Erica raised her hand. “I am not.”

“You are,” Dru insisted. “You’re Derek’s pack sister and are honor-bound to make sure this goes well.”

“Why aren’t you asking Laura to drive you, then?”

For a moment, it looked like Dru, with her face flushed in embarrassment, was going to back down. Then she said, “Because Laura and subtly do not go together.”

“Dru,” Erica said seriously, “why do you want to follow them?”

Dru frowned at her, squirming. “Why _don’t_ you? I just wanna check on them! Cause…”

“Cause if it doesn’t go well, it’s gonna be unpleasant,” Cora finished, nodding as if she finally saw Dru’s reasoning.

Dru only hoped she didn’t see the real reason. 

“Oh, come on. You just want to see what they’re doing because neither of you have been on a date before,” Erica said with a scoff.

Cora shrugged. “That could be part of it. Come on, Erica, aren’t you a _little_ curious about it? Derek and _Stiles_?”

She stared at the pleading faces of her friends. “Oh my _god_. I’m only going because Boyd is coming, and your brother,” she pointed at Cora, “is hot, and yours,” she pointed at Dru, “is adorable.”

Cora and Dru pounced on her, giggling even when she shoved them off the bed and onto the floor.

 

The girls dressed casually, deciding that spywear was to be subtle. Laura asked them where they were going on their way out, but was too distracted by the phone call from her fiancé, Sam, to interrogate them thoroughly.

Talia let them borrow Aaron’s car in exchange for them texting her when they got to Sweet CeCe’s, the ice cream/frozen yogurt shop across the street from the theater.

They left before she could change her mind, racing to pick up Boyd, then Isaac.

“I don’t see why I had to sit in the back,” Dru pouted from between the boys.

“Because you’re the shortest,” Erica retorted.

“Then how come _I_ have to sit back here?” Isaac countered in a mumble.

“Because you’re the tallest.”

“Because I got up here first,” Cora said, stretching obnoxiously in the passenger seat.

“I think the oldest should get dibs on the front seat,” Boyd announced.

Dru huffed at him. “Why is there no argument where I’m even close to getting up there?”

Boyd patted her leg absently. “Maybe when you’re older,” he teased, and jerked toward the door when a surge of energy brushed his shoulder, searing her mark against him and Isaac. “Very funny,” he snapped.

“It was an accident!” she claimed. “I only meant to give you a little buzz.” She grimaced. “I always put too much behind it. Are you okay? Isaac?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, not even pulling his shirt aside to look at the mark.

Dru wondered if he was shy enough to override his curiosity or if he had other marks to hide.

Boyd was looking at his shoulder. “Looks like a tattoo. Did you see that one that Stiles has?” he asked.

Dru looked at him like he was crazy. “Stiles doesn’t have a tattoo,” she laughed.

“Then what was on his arm? Right here.” Boyd pointed to his inner bicep. 

She frowned at him. “I—haven’t seen anything,” she admitted. “But, I mean, I wasn’t looking. If he got a tattoo, he’d have _told_ me. To brag. I think.”

“Then what was it?” Boyd challenged.

She shrugged. “What’d it look like?”

“Lines. I don’t know. It was blue, it was almost, like, glowing? And it was just…lines.” 

Dru pulled her cell phone out, tapped on a drawing app. “Show me the best you can.”

Body sighed and took the phone, drawing on it with his finger tip. “Sorta like that? Only neater.”

She blinked. “Well, that’s the sigil for protection. Why would he draw that in ink?”

“Does it work longer drawn in ink?”

“No. It doesn’t work at all with ink. People mostly stopped using sigils because tracing shapes takes longer to do _and_ learn, and while they were powerful, the effects weren’t long term.” 

“But the spells we use have longer lives?” Boyd questioned.

“Sort of? If you can hold your concentration, sure. Hypothetically, if you focused, you could keep a shield spell up for hours.” She grinned. “Stiles and I used to try to see who could keep our sensory spells going the longest.”

“Who would win?” Erica asked, turning onto the main road.

“Well, mine weren’t nearly as powerful as Stiles’, but he was more easily distracted than me on his _best_ day.” She grinned triumphantly, but it was gone in an instant. “Oh my gods, Erica, that’s Derek’s car at the red light,” she hissed, ducking between Boyd and Isaac.

“Oh crap.” Cora slunk down in her seat until the cross-body part of her seatbelt was pretty much on her forehead.

They crept up next to Derek’s Camaro, which had the windows wide open.

Erica started to choke on a laugh. “They aren’t going to notice you, but stay down.”

Dru peeked up around Boyd’s shoulder and felt her jaw drop. “ _Eeeeewwwwww,_ ” she squealed, dropping back down.

The image of her brother making out with _Derek_ was going to haunt her for life. She was afraid to wonder where his right hand had been, since only his left was on Derek’s shoulder.

“Oh, Gods,” she muttered, alarmed. As far as she was concerned, neither her brother nor her father had penises. She was perfectly happy to think that she and Stiles had been delivered by a lovingly cast spell.

Her mother disapproved of these thoughts— _it’s body parts, baby, everyone has them, and everyone interested in sex is gonna use them_ —but Dru figured they were harmless enough.

She never ever ever wanted to think about Stiles having sex ever. Or Derek for that matter _oh Gods_. 

“Wow, Derek has _skills_ ,” Erica said very quietly.

“Ohmygod,” Cora gasped.

“What does _skills_ look like?” Isaac asked softly, almost under his breath.

“Well, Derek just employed the yank and plunder—you know, lip biting and face grabbing,” Erica reported and Cora began to mutter and giggle.

Cora was not as bothered as Dru at the idea of her brother having a sex life. It was a werewolfism, Dru thought, because they could smell so _much_ on each other and everyone else that sex was not as private as it could be.

Boyd frowned. “The yank?”

“You know,” Dru said, suddenly very pleased for the distraction. She mimed grabbing someone’s shoulders and pulling them forward, then up toward her. “It only really works if someone is smaller than you or sitting lower. If you’re pretty much the same height at the time, you end up bumping foreheads or something. The yanked person doesn’t have time to angle,” she giggled.

Isaac blinked at her. “Who’d you kiss?” 

“How do you know I kissed anyone?” She blushed but he just continued to stare at her with narrowed eyes. The last time they’d been talking like this, she really _hadn’t_ kissed anyone. Isaac was too observant.

“They’re gone,” Erica announced. “And you might as well spit it out and make them swear not to tell Stiles.”

“You want us to hide something from _Stiles_? As in the guy who can manipulate _air_?” Boyd asked in disbelief.

“No, no,” Dru said quickly. “Not hide, exactly. Just maybe don’t offer up the information ever.”

“ _What_ information?” Isaac asked, confused.

“Dru asked Scott McCall to teach her to kiss over spring break and he _did_ ,” Cora blurted, giggling.

“Cora, maybe information is to be kept until after an oath of silence has been sworn,” Dru squeaked.

“Is that a thing Scott does?” Isaac asked, baffled but—if Dru wasn’t mistaken—suddenly more interested. 

“What, teach people to kiss?” Dru laughed. “No, but for all his dorky goofy Scottness, Allison Argent says he could really _kiss_. So I asked him to teach me. Also I was not very nervous with Scott. Can you imagine how nerve-wracking a first kiss could be? So I used Stilinski logic and handled it.”

“Why not Colin?” Boyd asked and shrugged when everyone turned to look at him. “It’s just a thought.”

“Because Colin would have laughed at me and told me to find a guy my own age for target practice. Scott’s too nice.”

“Emotional blackmail?”

Dru pouted. “No, I wouldn’t do _that_. More like…he was sympathetic to my situation.”

“I kissed Scott once, too,’ Cora announced. “I didn’t ask first. I was twelve. He cried.”

“ _No he did not_ ,” Erica yelped, nearly running over a mailbox.

Cora nodded vigorously. “Oh yes he did. He was sixteen and I kissed him and he cried and said Laura was going to disembowel him for molesting her little sister. I had to swear to get Derek and Colin to save him if she came after him before he’d calm down.”

“What did you _do?_ ”

“I decided my affections were best laid elsewhere,” Cora said dryly while Dru snorted.

Boyd squirmed in his seat.

“I,” Isaac began shakily,” made out once with Allison Argent.”

“ _What?!_ ” Cora demanded. “As in, Scott’s _ex?_ As in, twenty-years-old?”

“Yeah. Um. Over winter break.” His face was bright red. “She apologized to me,” he mumbled.

“Because she’s older,” Dru said quickly. “That’s all.” She patted his leg and peered at Boyd. “Your turn?”

“Just because all of _you_ are all over everyone in Beacon Hills doesn’t mean _I_ am,” he said airily, making them all laugh.

“I had the most gigantic of a crush on Stiles a few years ago,” Erica said firmly, turning toward the theater.

“ _Really._ ” Cora rolled her eyes.

Erica shrugged. “He was really smart. I liked the random trivia he spouted off. He also didn’t act like a creep toward girls.”

“Stiles is gay,” Isaac pointed out.

“Assumptions!” Dru accused. “Stiles likes who he likes.”

“Way to be vague.”

“Not so vague,” she disagreed. “Very specific, I’d say. Stiles is attracted to brains and courage and especially people who have a romantic bent, though he usually doesn’t realize that part, I’d bet.”

“What?” Most of the passengers looked baffled.

“Lydia Martin, Laura Hale, Derek Hale, Mikhail Annushka, Danny Mahealani,” she said, ticking people off on her fingers. “Lydia is practically engaged to Jackson Whittemore, and Mikhail is a forty year old who makes his living feuding with other witch families on television with his wife. Danny was nice but he didn’t like hanging out with all of us versus spending time with Stiles alone, so he wasn’t good for Stiles, which are his words not mine. And then there’s Derek, who actually _knows_ Stiles and who Stiles has liked since for freaking ever.”

“Oh my god, psychoanalyzing your older brother’s love life. Dru. You’re kind of pathetic,” Erica muttered.

Dru frowned. “I’m not pathetic, I’m an empath. I just worry about him. Plus he’s not around as much anymore.” She shrugged, hugged her arms around herself and tried to enjoy the closeness of her friends and ignore the sting of Erica’s words.

Isaac leaned closer, giving her a hesitant little smile. 

Erica’s face looked slightly flushed and her eyes were doing that narrowing thing they did when she felt guilty about something. They were pulling into Sweet CeCe’s, so Cora texted Talia that they’d arrived, blaming the delay on picking up Boyd and Isaac—no point omitting them when she’d smell them in the car.

“There’s Derek and Stiles,” Cora said hesitantly, spotting the two leaning on Derek’s car outside the theater.

“Terrific,” Dru said brightly, shaking off her mood. “Let’s get inside before it rains.”


	6. Entertainment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Dru chapter but in the next one we're in Stiles' head. Also Dru is spying on them anyway, so it's not like we're not seeing them. 
> 
> *hiding under desk seems like a smart thing at this point.

**Entertainment**

 

The sky was gray and moody while they sat inside Sweet CeCe’s, which explained why it was mostly empty. People didn’t want ice cream when it was raining.

“They will eventually go inside,” Boyd observed. 

“I have prepared for this eventuality,” Dru announced. “You guys doubt me so much.”

Erica snorted. “Stiles just tried to get Derek back in the car. Derek laughed and now he’s pulling him toward the theater.”

They all heard the yelp when Stiles grabbed a handful of Derek’s ass.

“Okay, guys. Stiles said they’re going to see that new Marvel movie.”

“And?” Cora prompted once their brothers were out of sight.

“Well, how are we going to know if everything’s going okay if they’re out of sight for _two hours?_ ”

“Dru…”

She rushed to say, “Seriously! Stiles will sense me the second I step foot into that theater. You guys don’t understand. It’s immediate. But with you guys, it could be anyone he knows coming in, and he’ll ignore it.”

“Who, exactly, are you sending?” Boyd asked cautiously.

She smiled winningly at her friends, mentally crossing her fingers. She had to be careful here. “You guys. If you four get caught, it’ll look like you’re on a date. A…double date.”

“Uh-huh,” Erica said. “And who’s buying the movie tickets.”

Dru’s smile widened. “You know I never spend my babysitting money unless it’s important. So…you guys are going to see _Buried_!” she offered brightly, and hoped they didn’t think too hard about it.

“Why _Buried_?” 

“Because Stiles is not a fan of horror and you can avoid being spotted.” She wanted to rush them out before they could argue with her. She was here for spying on her brother, truly. But she was also here for her friends.

The part of her—so, most of her—that would always and forever be a younger sibling was there to spy on Stiles.

The rest of her…

“C’mon, guys, please? What if they’re fighting over popcorn or something? I just want you to peek, then go watch a free movie.”

Erica was watching her shrewdly, but she didn’t protest, instead sliding her arm through Boyd’s. “Well, I’m not going to turn down a free movie,” she said smoothly.

Cora looked suspicious. “Dru…”

“ _Please_ , Cora?” she pleaded. “If they end up having a bad time, Stiles won’t want to go over to your house for awhile because he won’t want to make _Derek_ uncomfortable and—couldn’t you just…check on them? Derek doesn’t have the best track record, either…”

Cora let out a breath and turned to Isaac sharply. “Are you okay with that?” she demanded.

He flushed. “Um, if—if you are,” he mumbled, eyes downcast.

She nodded. “You owe me, Dru _silla_.”

“I know,” Dru said quickly. “Thank you!”

“You know you’re stuck here until the movie ends, right?” Erica asked.

“I can shop around. Well, window shop, and plus, Alice’s is down the street, I can walk over there and see Mom’s competition.”

Cora sighed. “Alright. We’re going. How’d you pay for the tickets?”

“Over the phone. They just need Erica’s ID.” She smiled serenely. “You guys are the _best_.”

As they walked out, Isaac glanced back at her, smiled, and mouthed “thanks”, stunning her. Of all the people to notice…but of course it would be Isaac. He watched people so _closely_.

She heard Boyd asking Erica if anyone ever said no to Dru and Cora laughing harshly.

Dru sighed and sat back down at the window table, leaning her chin on her hands, elbows on the table top. The other customers had long since left with their frozen yogurt, leaving the place empty.

“Are you going to _buy_ anything or are you just gonna sit here?”

_Almost_ empty.

Dru sighed again. “Yes, I’m going to buy somethi-“ she blinked up at the employee standing beside her booth. He wasn’t the same guy who’d been manning the register when they arrived. “Um.” Once her tongue unknotted, she blurted, “Where have you _been_?” which didn’t make sense, as she’d never met him.

“It wasn’t the right time,” he replied without missing a beat, and then looked as horrified as Dru felt.

Her brain took in details about him, randomly ordered, not necessarily _needed_ details. His hair was slightly more red than brown but probably still auburn. He wore black boots with his Sweet CeCe’s uniform. His eyes were unnervingly _gray_ and he was pale to the point of worrisome. He was wearing a Sweet CeCe’s jacket zipped up almost to his chin.

As she examined him, he was looking at her, and she knew what he was seeing: disordered, wild brown curls, possibly stained blue tank top, and jean shorts. They were both holding very stiff and still.

His name tag said _Clyde_.

“I’m Dru Stilinski?” she offered hesitantly.

“Clyde Havelock,” he muttered.

She frowned. “Your name is familiar. So is your face…” She flushed. _CREEPY. Very nice, Dru._

“My mom is Serina Havelock,” he said, which made sense. “I look a lot like her.” 

Serina Havelock was a famous witch who used her magick to create special effects in movies and then taught _other_ witches to do it.

A lot of older witches (like Dru and Stiles’ maternal grandmother…) didn’t like that, said she was abusing her power. She laughed and said it was hers to use and cast a spell that made glitter light the air as she walked.

Dru liked her. She hadn’t known she had a son.

“Did you say your name is _Dru?_ ” Clyde asked awkwardly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s short for Drusilla.” He _was_ cute. In a pale, meek-looking sort of way. Even if he wasn’t meek, something about the way he held himself made her assume he was. His face was adorable, even though she felt faintly repelled by it.

“Ah. That makes sense,” he laughed.

“Do I really have to buy something?”

He shook his head. “Probably not, since you’re not taking up space anyone wants.”

_**What are you up to, you demon?**_ Stiles asked suddenly, making her grin.

_**Erica wanted to get to know Boyd better,**_ she replied, holding her finger up at Clyde. To her surprise, he seemed to know what she was doing and nodded in understanding, stepping back. _**I’ll be fine at Sweet CeCe’s until they’re done.**_

_**We’ll meet you there after our movie.** _

_**Fine.**_ She wondered how badly she was about to get lectured. She prayed he would avoid telling their parents that she’d decided to play spy/matchmaker. 

“Do you have any siblings?” she asked, looking up at Clyde again. Telepathic communication was something that witch siblings were known to do, but for some reason, no one else could do it without complicated spells involved. 

“Um, yeah, my twin sister Genevieve.” He smiled a little. “She rarely ends our conversations that fast, though. She likes to tell me every detail of her road trip so far.”

“Oh? Where’s she going?” Dru asked, because “road trip” sounded like a synonym for “adventure”. 

“She’s coming here. We were moving from Alabama, actually.” He fiddled with the zipper of his jacket. It hid all but a bit of his neck just under his jaw. “I took a plane, but Genny isn’t one to pass up the opportunity to take her time and explore.”

Dru smiled. “She seems fun.”

He smiled back, leaning against the table behind him. “She is,” he assured her. “Me, not so much.”

Dru laughed a little, surprise. “Why would you say that?”

He shrugged. “Should we agree to not talk about-?” He looked nervous, swallowing convulsively. 

Dru immediately went tense again, her stomach clenching so hard she thought she might puke. “I think avoiding it is altogether a good plan.” She looked at her knees. “Besides, I wanna ask my brother about it.”

Clyde’s brows drew together. “Why your brother?”

“Because even if he doesn’t know anything about…this, he’ll be able to _find_ something.” She lifted her chin. “It isn’t any better for me, you know,” she declared. 

Clyde nodded and reached over the counter for a damp rag and started to wipe down the tables.

Outside, the clouds opened up and rain began pouring down.

Dru checked her phone and saw a text from her mother.

_Don’t cause too much trouble. Be careful._

She replied and set her phone on the table in front of her. She didn’t pick it back up when her father texted, but she did laugh.

_What movie are they seeing? I’m going to have Deputy Turner go “check for troublemakers”_

She told him they were seeing _Buried_ and he called her a liar. She just sent him a smiling devil face.

She glanced up at Clyde out of the corner of her eye, while he cleaned the table across the shop. Her heart fluttered and her stomach turned in revulsion.

Sometimes witches would find someone that something in them just _recognized_. Both Dru and her mother refused to call it _soulmates_ because that sort of romanticized it—the way movies did—while in reality, it was horrifying to find yourself in love with a person you didn’t even _know_.

_In love? No, no,_ she corrected, heart hammering. _Instantly attracted to._

Dru stood up quickly. “Actually,” she announced, making Clyde jump, “I think I’m going to Alice’s. Thanks.”

He frowned at her. “I didn’t mean you had to leave. Plus, it’s raining.”

Dru glanced at the rain, smiled to herself. “What kind of witch lets herself get rained on?”

“Okay,” he said softly.

“I’m meeting my brother and his date here after their movie. I’ll be back. It was kinda nice to meet you.”

His mouth twisted. “Likewise.” He wrapped the rag around his fingers. “Are you-I mean. Never mind.”

She nodded at him and went outside, whispering to the rain to fall around rather than onto her.

Alice’s was a witch’s store, for every kind of _practice_ a witch could have. Anyone could make a “potion”, but only a witch could pump enough magick into the ingredients to make the potion effective. Alice carried readymade potions for non-witches, too, candles and journals and crystals and all sorts of tools. 

Just like Claudia’s supply store, except Claudia’s was more affordable, was called _Fire and Air Supplies_ and carried things for humans, werewolves, witches, and any number of others. 

“Hello,” Dru mumbled to the glowering clerk. “Do you happen to have any pyrite?” 

The woman sniffed and jerked her chin toward a display of stones and crystals. The pyrite was the most full and labeled _Fool’s Gold_.

Dru rolled her eyes all the way out of the store.

_Alice’s is pretty awful,_ she texted her mom. _Almost died inhaling incense._

Her mother sent her back a grinning emoji. 

_**Hey, Dru, we’re coming out now,**_ Stiles said, sounding a little tense.

Dru asked, _**What’s wrong?**_ as she hurried back to Sweet CeCe’s.

_**Nothing,**_ he said easily. _**Distracted.**_

_**STILES NO**_.

She burst back into the still-empty ice cream shop. Clyde stared at her.

“Do you shop at Alice’s?” she demanded, marching to the counter. 

“Uh, not—really? Not _much_. Sometimes if I’m out of something?” He shrugged cautiously. “I don’t really expand on my magick much. Just the spells I already know.”

She stared at him, now, stunned. “You don’t buy—or rent—spellbooks? You don’t try to make your own?”

“Well…no.” He looked down. “It wasn’t really…safe, in Alabama, to experiment. And stuff.”

“You don’t sound southern.”

His head snapped up. “I’m not. I was raised in Illinois for the most part.”

She nodded. “Well, you should go to Fire and Air sometime. Check it out. It’s good to experiment. And it’s safe here,” she added with the assurance of the Sheriff’s daughter.

_**Dru,**_ , Stiles called, and she turned in time to get nearly knocked over by a werewolf. 

Derek, laughing, lifted her above his head. 

“Did you pimp my sister out to your friend, you monster?” he demanded while Stiles stood below, hands outstretched like he was worried Derek would drop her.

“No,” she laughed. “Erica wanted to get to know Boyd, and Boyd wanted to get to know Erica, so Isaac and Cora are just a buffer for awkwardness.”

“Liar,” Stiles accused, and Derek agreed. “You set your friends up!”

Derek set her on her feet, crossed his arms in front of her and tried to adopt a stern expression. It was ruined by the amusement in his eyes. 

“Well…yes. But I needed them to spy on you guys. How well could your date have been going if you noticed them right away?” she teased, ducking when Stiles grabbed for her.

“Brat. We were fine, until I realized what you were doing.”

She bit her lip. “Sorry.” She glanced at Clyde and felt her cheeks redden. “As much as I’d love to stick around and tease you two, I should, um, go.” She started walking backwards, smiling widely. “But share a bowl of custard or something. You know.”

“Dru—Dru, stop,” Stiles said breathlessly, his hand coming up sharply, and beside him, Derek’s face went white.

Dru froze in a binding spell. Betrayal bloomed in her chest. Stiles had _bound_ her. What, because he was angry? Tears welled in her eyes, and he continued to look shocked.

Behind her, the door clanged as someone walked in, and Dru’s vision flared red for a moment in warning.

The binding spell came off and she stumbled, gasping and turning. 

Three male werewolves stood behind her, smirking. They were barefoot and wearing ripped and wet shorts and t-shirts. Friends, but not a pack, not close enough to each other to form a pack on their own. They were maybe in their early thirties. 

Dru swallowed audibly, felt very small in front of them. They were all well over six feet tall.

“Come here,” Stiles said. _**Dru, slowly. Don’t run,**_ he added.

She backed toward Stiles and Derek until she felt Derek grab her arm and yank her behind him.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t here for the baby witch,” the blond said, licking his teeth.

“This isn’t your territory-” Derek began.

“We want to issue a challenge to you,” the guy interrupted.


	7. Sound of Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has occurred to me that the only way to get the story moving is if I hurry up a little bit... I'm not ready to deal with the Big Bad yet!!! So...here's a seventeen page (typed of course, my handwriting is so small) chapter of...uh...shoddy foreshadowing and attempted ~romance~.
> 
> Worldbuilding? Pacing? I'm a terrible writer.

**Sound of Madness**

Stiles stared at the werewolves, annoyed and curious. He’d never seen a pack-less werewolf, and these guys were a little rougher looking than he’d expected.

Rouge/pack-less werewolves wandered. They rarely kept a home when they could sleep in their fur in the woods perfectly comfortable. 

“A _challenge?_ ” Derek growled.

Challenges weren’t _really_ a big deal—a way for rogue ‘wolves to earn some fast cash or a meal in territory that belonged to a pack. A source of entertainment and a legal channel for aggression. A challenge between werewolves was a fight, skin or fur, it didn’t matter. Winner got an agreed amount of money or cash. Loser shelled out.

There were rules and laws, though.

“You can’t issue a challenge in a public place,” Stiles snapped. “And you can’t challenge anyone more than three years younger than you. And you can only fight _if_ the challenge is accepted.”

“What are you, a cop?” the blond man sneered.

“I know a few,” Stiles spat.

“Well, maybe memorize _this_ \--challenges _can_ be issued in public, just not carried out. But—we can ask a cop if you want.”

“And the age restriction?” Dru piped up, trying to move around Derek. “Or are you not smart enough to do basic math?”

The guy on the left snarled at her, and Derek growled back.

Dru scoffed but Stiles could feel her energy pulsing in fear. Her hair was curling up, too, a tell tale sign of impending explosion.

“Dru,” he said. _**Shield yourself and Derek.**_

He watched her perform the spell carefully so that a shield rose over Derek, herself, and the employee who’d made her blush.

“Look, we don’t want to talk to _you_ , witch,” the rogue growled, his words garbled by the fangs growing in his mouth. 

Derek snarled at the sight, but didn’t move forward—that could be seen as accepting the challenge.

“We’re here to challenge your bitch.”

_**Hmm, it**_ is _ **kind of infuriating to hear**_ , Stiles said to Dru, felt his own energy crackle along his skin. The sigil on his arm burned when the wolf stepped forward. 

“You’re a bit over the age limit, grandpa. Why don’t you go find someone more your speed-” Stiles flung his hand out when the werewolf lunged at him, threw him back. 

“Jesus,” he heard a voice he didn’t recognize say.

The werewolf picked himself up, half shifted and spitting mad. He and one of the others rushed Stiles, who brought his hands up and shoved, using the air between them to knock them back. He wondered if he should put into practice the telekinesis research he’d been doing, but—they got back up.

He felt his face harden and shot a jolt of electricity through one of the ’wolves—while he was distracted the other tried to get behind him, only to yelp unexpectedly. The employee had stunned him weakly.

And Dru’s shield had failed—she must’ve gotten distracted. Derek was fist fighting the third wolf, trying to keep Dru behind him.

_**Dru, eyes,**_ he said and grabbed the first ’wolf’s arm, quickly scratched the sigil for sleep into his arm. 

Derek swore loudly and ripely when Dru attached herself to his opponent’s back, covering his eyes for a split second before he threw her to the ground, hard, a second too late. 

Stiles smirked and stunned the wolf behind him again, stopping to watch the wolf Derek had fought go still, blinking hard and trying to clear his eyes.

“What did you do to my _eyes?!_ " he roared, swiping at the air with his claws.

Dru was skilled at things like that, shield spells and things that would help her get away in fights.

“Umm, I called the police,” the employee offered, holding his hand out to Dru.

She looked mildly revolted and got up on her own. “You called the _police?_ Oh no. I’m gonna—run.” 

“Are you wanted?” he asked with actual real concern.

Stiles laughed.

“No, Clyde, our dad is the sheriff. Oh _no_ ,” she moaned at the sound of sirens, limping very quickly out of sight of the windows.

“Are you hurt?” Stiles asked, worried.

She scowled. “I landed on my butt and my tailbone will never be the same.”

Nate came in and stared at the werewolves, noting the two unconscious ones, and the one moaning, crouched and scratching at his face. Beside him was a young deputy that Stiles didn’t recognize. Dru rested her head against the tabletop.

“Maybe you should speak to the one over there,” the deputy said quietly to Nate, who laughed. 

“No, you go ahead, ask her what happened. I got…all this.” He cuffed the blinded werewolf and made a gesture, the counter spell to Dru’s homemade blinding spell.

Stiles told his father what happened. Derek told him what happened. And Clyde the cashier told him what happened. Dru was bright red as _she_ told the deputy what happened. Stiles saw Clyde noticing this and walking away stiffly.

“Whoa,” Derek muttered.

“What?”

“He smelled…I don’t know. Does Dru know him?”

Stiles shrugged. “As far as I know, they just met.”

“Huh.” Derek’s brows furrowed.

“What was it?” Stiles asked, squinting after the guy, who’d disappeared into the back.

“He just smelled like he was…it was too familiar for someone she just met, is all.”

“Maybe she does know him, I don’t know.” But he wanted to know why a guy he’d never even heard his sister _talk_ about before was looking at her like he was in pain.

Dru, for her part, had finished speaking to Deputy Parrish, who was smiling and congratulating her on the use of a homemade spell in such a tense situation and making her blush even more.

“So, boys,” Nate said after getting the ’wolves into the back of his cruiser, wearing padded pure silver cuffs they couldn’t break. “I have to ask…did you even know them?”

“No,” Derek replied, brows furrowed. “They didn’t even issue a proper challenge. I’d have-”

“Done nothing about it, son,” Nate interrupted. “They’re all in their thirties, kid. Last I checked, you were twenty-three.”

Derek backed down, his cheeks red. 

Stiles laughed. “Did they say what their problem was? They should know the rules about public places at least.”

“They’re pretty malnourished and my guess is they’d been spending their money on those wolfsbane drugs that’ve been going around lately. Did they seem frantic or jittery at all to you?”

“They got angry pretty easily. Didn’t seem _frantic_. They didn’t seem to think about the fact that they were going to get _arrested_ , either.”

Nate nodded, glanced over as Dru and Deputy Parrish came up to their group. Dru was still slightly pink faced, and both Stiles and Nate gave Deputy Parrish a stare down. 

“No one got hurt, right?” Nate asked finally, putting his arm around Dru’s shoulders and dwarfing her.

“Right,” Dru replied, leaning into his side.

“You hurt your butt,” Stiles teased.

“ _How?_ ” Nate asked, exasperated.

“I fell off the werewolf I blinded,” she admitted. “But it’s okay, maybe a little bruised.”

“I’ll take you home,” Nate began, and her eyes widened.

“No! I—I mean, I’m waiting for Erica, Cora, Isaac, and Boyd here.” She bit her lip and looked guilty enough that Stiles winced in sympathy—she was about to get in trouble.

“Really. Where are they?” Nate asked, crossing his arms.

“Umm, at the theater.”

Deputy Parrish looked at her with pity, the kind of pity that came from someone who thinks she was left hanging by “friends”.

“And _why_ are they at the theater without you?”

“Because I bought them movie tickets.” She cringed.

The pitying look on Deputy Parrish’s face deepened.

“If this has _anything_ **at all** to do with what you were asking that Lahey boy the other day, I think it’s safe to say you’re grounded.”

“Dad, w-what? You were listening to my conversation?” she stammered.

“Drusilla, you were in the kitchen. And you can’t force your friends to date each other.”

Her face went brilliantly red. “I wasn’t! That’s—awful! I asked Isaac what he thought of Cora, if he liked her. That’s _all._ ”

“And bought them movie tickets. Come on. I’m having Deputy Parrish take you home. You can text Erica that you’re going home.” 

“Dad,” Dru began, looking tearful. “I just- I was only-”

“Sorry, kiddo. I have to put my foot down about you tricking or forcing your friends into a date.”

“But Boyd _wanted_ to ask Erica out,” she sniffled.

“Let them figure that out. Go with Deputy Parrish. After your mom and I talk, we’ll discuss your sentence.” He thumbed her nose affectionately. 

She stomped out behind Parrish, pouting and near tears.

Stiles, for his part, felt like he’d missed something. “It really wasn’t that bad a thing to do, Dad,” he said once he’d gotten his bearings.

“I know,” Nate said grimly. “But those three idiots aren’t the only weres acting like feral dogs we’ve brought in lately, so I want Dru home. Also, she lied to her friends, not a good habit to start. And lastly, she gave Isaac glamour potion a few days ago and deliberately did not tell anyone about it.”

“Isn’t there a statute of limitations on that?” Stiles demanded, annoyed. “Like if you don’t catch her, it’s void?”

Nate shrugged. “I wanted to see what he used it for.”

Stiles’ face went blank. “Did you?”

“Not quite. He used it right away though. I could sense it.”

Derek said, “He smells…hurt all the time. Or maybe not hurt, more like…painfully upset?”

“It’s hard to articulate scents, isn’t it?” Nate asked curiously, and Derek nodded.

“Remember that Dru’s usually surrounded by witches and werewolves, Dad, before you guys decide how long to ground her. Can we finish our date _now?_ ”

Nate’s gaze shifted to Derek and sharpened. “I suppose.”

“C’mon,” Stiles said, tugging Derek’s hand until they were around the sheriff. 

“So, Clyde, how do you know my daughter, Dru?” he asked, and Stiles knew they were home free.

“Hurry before he loses sight of his fresh prey.”

They walked to the diner down the road called The Egg and I. Stiles kept them dry, and Derek held his hand very tightly.

“Does it scare you?” Stiles asked, frowning.

“What, the magick? No,” Derek laughed. “I practically grew up watching your parents keep our lawn dry for picnics on rainy days.”

“I thought you were freaked out. Umm, witch bones don’t heal like werewolf bones, Derek, and I _really_ need my hands,” he said in a rush when Derek’s fingers squeezed tighter.

“Sorry,” he grunted, dropping Stiles’ hand quickly.

“No, it’s okay, just careful with the squeezing.” Stiles picked his hand back up, felt a thrill go through him at the sight of the five-year-old mark on Derek’s palm, peeking through the spaces between his fingers.

“It’s fading,” Derek finally mumbled. “I’m not really sure how your energy works, so I thought if you did a spell while we were holding hands…”

Stiles felt his face and neck flush with pleasure. “I can make it clearer. Once we get to the diner. My energy doesn’t always run along my skin. When I do a spell it almost never does, because it’s going into the spell. When energy runs along their skin, it’s because the witch is scared or panicked, and their energy is reacting, protecting them. If the witch is especially distressed, you can see it. Same if the witch is doing it on purpose. There’s actually a study about the pure energy witches can do some times and if it’s possible to abandon defensive spells in favor of that. A group of researchers and students are conducting a study at my school, it’s…not very interesting,” he realized abruptly. “Sorry.” 

Derek smiled at him. “It’s not boring. Dru read us that five page research paper you copied and sent home. I liked it.”

“ _She read that to you?_ ” he demanded, mortified. He highly regretted trying to talk her out of being grounded. She deserved it.

“Me, Colin, Scott, Laura, Cora…anyone sitting still long enough to be read to. Hey, at least your sister idolizes you. Mine just tease me.”

Stiles laughed weakly. “Uh, oh, look, the diner.”

Derek rolled his eyes and yanked open the door, letting out freezing cold air and the scent of breakfast foods and desperation.

Once they were seated in a booth and given glasses of ice water to start with, Stiles told Derek to hold his hand out. The mark _had_ faded. Or he’d let it fade.

Stiles had never thought to look up if marks faded over time even if the person wanted to keep it. He would after their date.

“I’m a little better at this now. Are you sure you want it on your hand?” he asked, glancing up to see Derek’s mouth part just a little.

He licked his lips and his ears went pink at the tips. “Yeah, I’m, you know, used to it. There.” He smiled and looked away, flushing more.

_Hmm._ “Are you _sure?_ I could put a new one on your shoulder and get rid of this old one-”

Derek’s fingers closed tightly, protectively, around the mark. “No, it’s fine. If you don’t want to put a new one where the old one was, just leave it.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Stiles sighed and held his hand out. Energy started gathering in his palm like simmering white embers. “It won’t hurt like last time,” he promised.

Derek held his hand above Stiles’, let him choose the angle. The energy between their palms calmed, stopped crackling and stretched up, spreading over the old mark, renewing it to its old vibrancy. 

“There,” Stiles said, “that didn’t hurt at all.” He sat back and admired his handiwork.

Derek looked at it, too, and smiled. “Thanks.”

Their waitress, Laurel, came to take their orders, smiling cheerily as she told them their drinks would only be a second.

“Hey,” Derek said abruptly. “Dru told Cora that witches couldn’t do telekinesis?”

“They can’t, at least, not since we stopped doing blood based spells about a hundred years ago.” Stiles shrugged. “Why?”

“What did you sue to throw those guys around, then? At Sweet CeCe’s?”

Stiles stared at him. “I was manipulating air,” he said finally.

“Oh.” Derek’s brows furrowed. “Uh, okay.”

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, preparing to give a lesson. “All witches can manipulate fire, water, earth and air, to an extent. Most can’t do air at all, except a breeze now and then. There’s always **one** of the four that they’re naturally inclined to be better with, though. For example, Dru’s is water. I can keep from getting wet during a storm, but she could walk through a lake and come out completely dry. My dad’s the same. Boyd’s element is fire. Mom’s is earth. And mine is air.” Stiles bit his lip, blushing a bit.

Derek took a sip of his water, kept his eyes avidly on Stiles’ face.

“It’s rare, and powerful and _dangerous_. Air is…it’s just hard to manipulate in the first place. So being naturally inclined toward it…well,” he rolled his eyes, “lots of old books say it _means something_ , but mostly it just means I have to try harder to control myself.”

Derek smiled a little. “What happens when you don’t?”

Stiles chuckled. “Then it looks like a tornado ripped apart my dorm.”

“So…what’s the rhyme for air?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles frowned at him.

“Dru pretty much made us memorize the rhymes for water and fire that you taught her. What’s air?”

“Those were just to help her remember—never mind. It was _Air is to be loved, air is to be honored, air is to help us see forward._ Another reason air is so difficult. It’s used for people to see possible futures. Just like scrying with fire can help you see the past—and most people with fire are also skilled at psychometry—and scrying with water can help see the present—and people with water tend to be empaths. It’s all connected.”

Derek nodded. “What’s psychometry?”

“Seeing the past, usually by touching an object. Like, once Boyd figures his magick out, he’ll be able to focus his energy on, say, this bench, and he’ll be able to see me telling you all about this stuff. He wouldn’t have to use fire to see it, the way I would.” 

Derek hummed thoughtfully. “Are you going to teach?” he asked suddenly.

“What? Teach?” Stiles laughed.

“Yeah, in a classroom. Is that what you want to do?”

“I’m not sure—maybe? I think I’d prefer something more hands on, making and writing down new spells and practices.” He rubbed at his arm absently. The sigil on his arm was kind of tingling again, but it wasn’t supposed to do that unless he was in danger. 

He forgot about it when their food came. They let conversation lull in favor of applying themselves to their meals; Stiles swung his legs as he ate, a habit he’d developed after being scolded for spilling food so much as a kid. If he was moving his legs, the rest of him could still enough to eat without the mess.

He swung too hard at the midway point of their meal and Derek trapped his foot between his own ankles.

“Always drove me crazy when you did that,” he said with a cheeky grin. “This is mine now,” he added, flexing his hold to show what he meant.

Stiles shrugged and finished his burger, swinging one leg and jittering his fingers against the tabletop.

Derek was frowning at his food, halfway through his Philly cheese steak; his shoulders were tense. 

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked softly, leaning forward.

Derek looked up. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just…” He wrinkled his nose for a second. “You know.” 

He meant someone or something smelled unpleasant enough to put him off his food. Stiles was surprised _he_ couldn’t smell it if it was enough to make Derek lose his appetite.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Derek mumbled. He mustered up a smile, though, when he met Stiles’ eyes. “Maybe we should try staying in and watching a movie for date two,” he chuckled, and got out of the booth.

When he wobbled and knocked into an old man, Stiles jumped up to help, but Derek had already grabbed the man’s cargo jacket, steadying him.

“I’m sorry,” Derek gasped, pulling his hand away to press it to his own shoulder; Stiles frowned.

The old man smiled absently. “That’s alright. Be careful, okay?” He nodded at Derek, then at Stiles, who shuddered.

He had sharks’ eyes, dark and empty.

“I’m gonna get some to go containers,” Stiles said slowly. When he looked at Derek, his mouth dropped open; he was practically green.

“Kay,” he mumbled through his clenched teeth, and bolted to the bathroom.

Stiles stared after him, then down at his plate of food. He decided to pay the check and not worry about the leftovers. 

He met Derek outside.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know. I started to smell something…wrong. And it made me queasy. Maybe the old guy was sick,” he added thoughtfully.

“The one you bumped into?”

“Yes…he could’ve been sick. Mom said that happened to her once. She walked past this woman and the smell was just…wrong, enough that it made her sick. Apparently the woman had some sort of cancer, I don’t know.” Derek shrugged. 

“I feel better now.” Except he was still holding his shoulder.

“Well, today was sort of a bust. Spying little sisters, drug addled werewolves, and now this.” Stiles shook his head, couldn’t help wondering if it was an omen. His ancestors used to take smaller signs than those much more seriously.

“The spying little sisters were kind of cute,” Derek pointed out.

“It was cute to you because _your_ sister wasn’t the evil mastermind,” Stiles complained. “Either way, everything else seemed to go wrong.”

Derek watched him, a silent, unwavering lupine stare that he figured most werewolves learned at a young age.

“What? It’s _true_.” 

“Besides the things that _did_ go wrong,” Derek finally said, “I enjoyed most of the day.”

Stiles sighed and put his hands in his pockets and tried to figure out how to fix the miserable, tense look on Derek’s face, his crossed arms and rigid shoulders. 

“C’mon,” Derek mumbled, “I’ll drive you home.”

Stiles sighed and grabbed at his arm as he started to walk away, pulled him close and wrapped him in a tight hug, pressing his lips to Derek’s briefly, then again more firmly.

Derek’s tension dissolved and he seemed to melt, letting his whole body drape against Stiles’ in a trusting manner that made the kiss that much sweeter.


	8. The Good Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sick, so this took for freaking ever. I had the worst freaking head cold in the history of head colds and my head felt like it might try to roll away if I even looked at words or a screen. It was hell. Here, have some sibling time. 
> 
> *I know no one wants sibling time

**The Good Life**

Stiles locked the door behind him when he got home, toeing off his shoes next to the door. He caught sight of his sister’s sneakers kicked up against the wall the way she did when she was upset.

He wondered how long she was grounded for.

Instead of going up to question her yet, he went to the kitchen to set up the chicken he’d be cooking for diner, setting it in a marinade to sit for an hour or so in the fridge.

He texted his mother that he was home, and she asked him to also toss a salad for dinner, so he did, with minimal eye rolling. He put that in the fridge, too, and leaned against the counter for a moment.

 _Going to face the bear. Send help if I don’t come back in a couple days,_ he texted Scott, who sent him an emoji of a four leaf clover.

He went upstairs and bypassed his room to go to Dru’s door, which was shut and locked. 

“Come on and open up, Silla,” he said softly, and heard the lock click. Locks generally couldn’t keep the witches of the house out _long_ , if they needed to enter. Locking the door was a Keep Out sign.

Dru was curled up on her bed, glaring at the wall. She had dried tear tracks on her face, and she was wearing sweat shorts and his old Beacon Hills Lacrosse t-shirt. There were a couple of holes in it and the collar was torn. He hadn’t seen it in awhile, and these were new.

Stiles crawled into bed with her, curling down until they were nose-to-nose. She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

 ** _I’m grounded for two weeks,_** she said, misery coming through in her words.

**_Did they say why?_ **

Her mouth moved into a pout. **_Lying to my friends, providing an “underage human” with a glamour potion, and making the potion without supervision._** She shifted her gaze. _**Glamour potions are baby stuff. Why were they so upset?**_

Stiles wasn’t sure how to answer her. He didn’t want to lie. Aloud, he said, “The rogue werewolves today scared them, and since you’re the only kid they can still ground…”

Her brows beetled. “It’s because they think you’re much better at magick than me.”

“I am. I’m older, and I’ve studied more,” he pointed out.

“No, I mean, in general.” She shifted so her head rested on his shoulder. “Mom was talking to Dad about mild repressing spells.” She rubbed her wet cheek against his shoulder. “Mom wants to bind my magick.” Her voice shook.

Stiles put his arm around her. “I highly doubt that. When has Mom ever said anything good about magickal binding?”

Dru looked at him sadly. “Yeah, but she also calls me the Wrecking Ball.” Her mouth curved, though, tears forgotten. “Erica asked Boyd out for another date.”

“Mission accomplished?” He nudged her playfully.

“Mostly. Stiles, all I asked Isaac last week was if he liked Cora. Not even that, really,” she added earnestly. “I asked what he thought of her.”

“Dru,” Stiles said carefully, “what did he want the glamour for?”

She looked away, sitting up so she was no longer touching him. “I can’t tell you.”

“Dru!”

“I _can’t!_ I promised, Stiles. It’s…we’re figuring it out. Boyd and I are working on it. I told him if it gets any worse I was telling.” 

Sometimes she sounded so freaking _young_.

“Dru, those are excuses! He won’t _tell_ you if it gets any worse. And you gave him a _glamour?_ ”

She glared at him. “Yes! Because we’ll be able to sense how much he’s using! He may be able to hide it, even control his expressions if he’s in pain, but if we can sense him using a whole bunch of glamour potion, we’ll know he’s hurt a lot.”

“Oh.” Stiles sighed and scooted up to sit next to her. “It would be better for Isaac if we just talked to Dad.” 

“But he’d _hate_ me,” she whispered. “He loves his—parent. He does. It’s terrible, Stiles,” she confided, “listening to him say that, when he has a black eye.”

Stiles nodded, staring at his lap. He thought maybe since he was older, he’d have to talk to their father about it.

Fifteen was sort of young to know how to deal with domestic violence. 

Nate had talked to them about what to do if they thought someone was being hurt, but it was easy to when the hypothetical victim wanted to be helped. Much harder when they swore up and down their abuser loved them.

“Can we talk about something else?” Dru asked in a small voice. 

“Alright.” Since he was going to talk to their father anyway.

“Tell me about school. How awesome is it?” she demanded. “Have you completely stunned your professors yet?”

“Not quite. It’s pretty cool. More focused on magick classes than human and day to day lessons.” He squirmed and came to a decision. “You wanna see what I made?”

She pressed her lips together, eyes lighting up. “Does this have anything to do with the “tattoo” Boyd says you have?”

“Yeah.”

“Then _of course_ I want to see!” She squeezed his arm, biting his lip. There was almost nothing Dru couldn’t shake off. Even grounding her couldn’t keep her down for very long.

“You can’t tell anyone about it yet, okay?”

“I won’t. Why’d you tattoo a sigil? We know ink doesn’t-”

“Shh,” Stiles laughed. “ _Listen._ So we know ink, pen or tattoo ink, won’t hold magick, so writing sigils down or tattooing them never did any good. Well, it isn’t ink.” He shoved his sleeve up and held out his arm.

Her brows furrowed. “It’s kinda glittery.” She traced it with a fingertip.. “And rough! Does it hurt?”

“A little. I had to get this guy to use my…ink, I guess, for lack of better word, to tattoo it on me.”

“So it really is like a tattoo?”

Stiles nodded. “So far, it’s permanent. And it’s working.”

Dru blinked at him. “Working?” She looked at the sigil again. “It’s been protecting you?”

“The way it would if I traced it in the air mid attack,” he said excitedly. “This is my project for the year. It’s a thing with my mentor,” he added, waving her questions away. “I’ll explain _that_ later. The thing is, it works just as well as tracing sigils, only better, because I don’t have to do anything. I just feel it burn and it throws the threat off course.” He pressed a finger to the sigil. “It tells me when I’m in danger, too, not the way out senses do, with people, but with anything. A train, a car, a falling tree. It burns if the danger is really close, tingles if it’s not life threatening.” 

Dru nodded. “I want one.”

Stiles laughed. “I have to find a tattoo artist to do it for you. And let me tell you right now—it _hurts_.” 

“I know—that’s what everyone says. Stiles,” Dru said seriously, “how’d you do it?”

“First, it hurts more than regular tattoos. Because of the ingredients.” 

“Which are what?”

He grinned. “I used the base ingredients of a glamour potion, added oak bark dust, and quartz dust. I got some dried Spanish moss, too, and obviously ground Adder’s Tongue. The quartz is why it hurt and sort of glitters. I used blue dye to give it color—it was like, puke brown when I was done liquefying it.” 

Dru squealed and bounced excitedly. “Stiles this is amazing! And simple! How did no one else try that?” she asked, confusion crossing her face. 

“Old fashions,” he said easily. “No one wanted to mix crystals and herbs in a potion,” he explained with another impish grin. “They thought it was supposed to be all herb or all crystal. Some of the crap they used to try with the crystals was brutal. Don’t look it up. It was gross.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” She wrinkled her nose. “So, would they work on…Cora? Or Isaac? Or do you have to run your energy through it to keep it powerful?”

“It’s already pumped full of magick. My theory is that on someone without magick, like a werewolf or a human, it’ll still work, but only for a certain amount of time before it begins to fade. But I don’t have anyone as a guinea pig.”

“We could ask Cora!” Dru said cheerfully. “And Scott, they’d do it! Or,” she said slyly, “you could ask Derek to let you tattoo him.”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles wasn’t going to talk to Dru about what he might want to do with Derek, because it was, at the moment, not a sister-friendly list.

“Can you show me how to make the…sigil-potion?”

“I can show you what I have of it. I left all my ingredients and crap in my school lock box. I brought all my notes, though, you can read them. C’mon.” He stood up.

“So, it _has_ to be tattooed? Drawing it on with fingers or a brush doesn’t work?”

“It does, but it washes away, and it isn’t as strong. I can draw a clear-thinking sigil on you to show you how it’d be. This is permanent,” he added. “So make sure you know you want it.”

She followed him to his room. “You know I do. This is so _cool_ ,” she gushed. 

The jar of potion ink—sigil ink—sigil potion?—was only an eight ounce glass jar, corked and neatly labeled, as was required at FEU. All bottles, jars, vials, canisters, and bags were to be labeled legibly, and it was a strictly enforced rule. Bad things happened if you thought a bottle of cleansing potion was soda, or something. 

“I want it on my forearm,” she chattered, holding her arm. “This is so awesome, Stiles, and I can’t wait to try it on Cora and Scott! Maybe Erica will let you, too, oh, and I bet Boyd would want to try it.”

Stiles laughed. “Sit down, Redbull.”

She stuck her tongue out and sat at his desk chair, spinning slowly. “I kept your room clean,” she said absently. “Hope you appreciate it. I _hate_ dusting.”

Because of her temperamental allergies and general aversion to housework.

It was a nice, warm feeling in his chest to know the brat missed him enough to dust.

“Yeah, I noticed. Thanks.” He pulled a paintbrush out of his backpack and thumbed the bristles, then popped the cork out of the ink. “So…while I’ve got you here…is that guy at Sweet CeCe’s a friend of yours?”

To his shock, her mouth popped open and tears filled her eyes.

 _Oh, gods, oops,_ he thought, horrified. _Did they break up? Wait, I never even heard about Dru dating? She’s never even kissed anyone!_

“Dru, I’m sorry,” he began, reaching for her.

She shook her head. “No, it’s not—it freaks me out!”

A thousand different scenarios and reasons ran through Stiles mind as to why his sister was “freaked out” by this guy. The most common theme was that the dude was stalking his little sister. “What freaks you out?” he asked carefully, kneeling in front of her.

“The weird—connection thing!” she blurted, waving her hands around her head. “When I saw him it was like _oh there you are,_ and _finally_ and that’s WEIRD, Stiles, it’s _horrible._ Why do the movies make it look so _great?_ I don’t even know what year he was born or his middle name or favorite pizza topping but I know that I love him. Oh gods! See? That’s scary! I want it to go away.”

Stiles gaped at her. Part of him was horrified—his little sister was in _love?_ — and part of him was very, very intrigued. He’d never met a witch who found that other person that something in them recognized. It was supposedly some sort of weird…soul glitch. 

Apparently, and he wasn’t sold on this yet, because he’d never found solid proof, but apparently souls recycled. You met the same souls in your lives, but you never interacted with them in the same way twice in a row. 

For instance, in this life, Nate’s soul was Stiles’ soul’s father. In their next life, he could be Stiles’ souls’ best friend, or brother, or sister or daughter or son. 

Occasionally someone would be born that would keep finding that same person throughout every one of their lives and fall in love with them. Or maybe it was that they felt the love from their past lives. Something like that.

Either way, movies depicted it as some sort of hugely romantic soulmate principle, and apparently it wasn’t that way in real life. Seeing as Dru, fifteen years old and a dreamy romantic, was so bothered by it, it couldn’t be that romantic at all.

“Can you—find anything out about making it go away, Stiles?” she asked softly. 

He frowned at her. “I can try? I’ll look for information on it. There’s never really been talk of people wanting to get rid of it.”

She pouted at him. “People are dumb, then.”

What was he supposed to say to that? ‘Go, Dru, go be in love with a strange guy’? A strange guy who was new in town, no less.

“Why don’t you bring him to the Hale house, see if he survives?” he asked as the idea came to him.

“Because I have no intention of seeking him out.” She crossed her arms stubbornly. “Paint my arm.” She held it out again. “His name is Clyde Havelock,” she mumbled.

 _Google_. The name sounded vaguely familiar. 

“His mom is Serina Havelock,” Dru said while Stiles dipped the paintbrush in the ink.

He nodded, but it sounded _more_ familiar, like he’d heard it on TV before, not just attached to his famous mother.

He started painting carefully the sigil for clear thought. It had been relatively useless before, unless you traced it on your leg every five minutes during an exam at school or something.

“Why did you always like sigils more?” Dru asked, watching him. “Also, the paint is gritty. That’s gonna hurt a lot later. To get it tattooed.”

“I told you that. Ummm, I used to have nightmares that I’d lose a couple fingers or something and be basically useless as a witch. So I learned the sigils and learned that as long as I could make the shape in the air, I wasn’t completely useless.”

Dru frowned at him. “You aren’t useless no matter what.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Silla. You’re all done. Let’s go make dinner.”

She bit her lip. “Okay. Can you help me talk Mom and Dad into signing up for self-defense classes at the high school for the summer?”

“Sure. You know Mom probably won’t go for it, though.”

“Dad will,” Dru said quickly. “Not everyone can use magick for everything like you and Mom. I’m just…” She picked at her sweats. “I can do it, but not…it doesn’t feel like enough. A shield I had to focus on to hold up, blinding him? That just made him angry and more dangerous.”

Stiles hummed. “You and Dad always were more physical about that stuff. We’ll think of an approach to Mom, starting with Dad. C’mon. Dinner.”

Dru huffed and got up to follow him.


	9. Here's to us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some panic and child abuse in this chapter, at the end. Also mention of blood and stuff. Just fair warning.

**Here’s to Us**

Claudia eventually agreed to the self-defense lessons, with the condition that in her free time, Dru was to come to the shop for magickal self-defense with Boyd. Nate agreed to this, too. Dru was placated, but did not miss the opportunity to ask why she was grounded. Again. 

Claudia and Nate took the time to explain to her, in detail and with frowns, why. She didn’t cry or argue this time, just sighed resignedly and said she’d never get a tan at this rate.

Since she and Stiles shared their mother’s fair complexion, it was likely she’d have gotten a sunburn rather than a tan anyway.

On Monday, they were invited to the lake, since the Hale’s were having a party to celebrate Scott’s joining the pack There was also paperwork Nate had to go over with Scott and Talia, as Sheriff. 

Dru was allowed to come to the party after bargaining and doing every chore imaginable over the weekend.

Stiles helped a little.

“ _Scott!_ ” Dru jumped out of the car when they spotted him. “You’re gonna be a _werewolf,_ ” she sang, throwing her arms around him. “This is so cool!”

“Yeah,” he laughed, patting her back.

There were more cars than Stiles had anticipated. The party was at a lake with sand and grills and picnic tables. Looking around proved more confusing than useful.

“Mom invited pretty much everyone our age who was in town,” Scott said by way of explanation. 

“Is that Allison? Hi, Allison!” Dru abandoned Scott to go hug Allison Argent, who was standing awkwardly next to her father.

Stiles watched Dru say a cautious hello to Chris Argent; she’d always been wary of him because of the iron dust thing.

“Boyd and Erica wandered off somewhere,” Scott said, “but Cora was waiting for Dru to go swimming.”

“Did Isaac get invited?” Stiles asked, crossing his arms.

Scott’s brow furrowed. “He said he couldn’t come.”

Stiles nodded. “Well, are you nervous?” he asked finally.

“Not really. Impatient, I guess. I already had to use my inhaler twice today. I’m ready to toss it.”

The idea of Scott without his inhaler was understandably alarming, but Stiles reminded himself that after the bite, he wouldn’t need it.

“Hey, Sheriff. Let’s get the paperwork done with right now so we can enjoy the party,” Scott said, grinning at Nate, who smiled fondly at him.

“Sure. Where’s Talia?”

They walked off together, Scott chattering excitedly. The paperwork was just proof that the bite was consensual, that he understood what the bite meant, and that he knew he’d be living with the Hale pack for about 6 months at least to get him used to full moons, and also that he was a part of the pack even if he didn’t live in the same house. Most people didn’t move out, preferring closeness to their pack, even bitten werewolves that’d been human once.

“You okay?” 

Stiles smiled at his mother. “Worried. Scott’s generally fit and young, so odds are on his side, but I stayed up almost all night reading about times the bite didn’t take.” 

Claudia nodded. “Yeah, Mel and I were looking at those, too. Dr. Deaton is here, just in case it _doesn’t_ take. Less than 3% of people who receive the bite die from it nowadays.” She kissed his cheek. “Why not go finally say hello to Derek so he can stop looking like a puppy, sweetie?” she murmured.

Stiles looked around and found Derek sitting at a picnic table with his cousins and uncle, watching with an intense sort of focus. When Stiles met his gaze, the intensity faded and shifted to a bright smile.

Peter flung a raw hot dog at his head and Stiles laughed, wading through weeds and running children to get to the table.

Jean and the other younger kids had taken off into the water with Laura supervising by the time he reached the table.

“Hungry, Stiles?” Peter asked, plating more steaks.

“Always,” he replied, sitting between Cora and Derek.

Cora gave Stiles a light bump and took off to kick sand at Dru.

Jenny, Peter’s oldest daughter, ran up to Mandy, dripping wet. “Mom, can I have a Pepsi?”

Mandy blinked at her, laughed. “That’d be your third today. I don’t _think_ so, little girl.”

Jenny scowled. “C’mon, Mom, I’m gonna burn through the sugar anyway.”

“How about some clean water?” Peter suggested, brows lifted.

“Peter, get back, you’re gonna burn half your face off,” Mandy snapped, shooing him away from the grill.

Peter made a mock-scared face at Jenny, who laughed. He gave her a bottle of water and sat across from Derek and Stiles. “Dru’s going to burn, Cora,” he called, and Cora caught Dru’s arm, probably reminding her to use sunscreen.

“You two going to swim at all?” he asked, quickly fixing three plates of meat and potato chips.

“Probably, after we eat.” Stiles shrugged, drumming his fingers on the table. He smiled when Peter pushed a plate toward him. “Thanks.”

“Did you put sunscreen on?” he asked, biting into his burger.

“I will before I go into the water.” Stiles knew Peter meant well—he’d seen Dru and Stiles sunburned before—but he _was_ nineteen—he could remember sunscreen.

Peter nodded, satisfied. “Derek, I meant to ask, what’s up with your arm?” 

Derek furrowed his brows. “Why?” 

“You were favoring your right foreleg when we were running last night. I thought something was wrong.”

“It’s fine,” he said, shrugging. “I guess it felt like it was sore. I don’t know.”

“That’s weird. You don’t stay sore for very long, do you?” Stiles asked, tapping his fingers against his thigh now. He didn’t want to look up toward where Talia, Scott, Melissa, and Nate were sitting. 

“Not usually, unless something’s blocking our healing. Let me see your shoulder, Derek,” Peter said, standing.

Mandy added more food to the grill and glanced at the water. “Alena, let _go_ of your brother,” she ordered. “Laura, can you separate them?”

Laura plucked both kids out of the water, greenish water streaming from Carter’s fur and Alena’s hair.

Derek pulled his shirt off and brought Stiles’ attention back to the table like a rubber band snapping back into place.

He had seen Derek shirtless countless times before. He’d seen the whole Hale pack nude more times than he could count. 

Werewolves considered clothes optional in their own territory. Like the humans, it was preferential in their home. Most of the kids tore off their clothes as soon as they got home from school.

Despite that, Stiles still appreciated Derek’s naked chest, as, he was sure, anyone would.

Derek seemed to notice Stiles’ appreciation, because he sat up a little straighter, like he was proud of himself for pleasing Stiles. .

 _ **Werewolves are weird,**_ he told Dru, and heard her laughing in the water.

_**Yeah, tell me about it. Cora keeps asking me if Isaac dates.** _

Stiles didn’t reply.

“You’re bruised,” he said stupidly.

Derek was staring down at his own shoulder at the purple and blue discoloration marring his otherwise perfectly tan skin.

Peter prodded it and apologized when Derek flinched. “Do you remember bumping anything when you were away from the house?” 

Derek shook his head. “Oh—yeah, wait. I bumped into this old guy at the diner we went to on Friday. He smelled like rotting meat.” 

Peter nodded. “Sick, dying. He must’ve had something silver where you bumped into him.” He looked irritated, but not enraged. “It happens. It’ll heal like Stiles’ bruises heal.”

Stiles smirked. “Let’s see how you deal with healing like a lowly human, big guy.”

“ _You_ aren’t human,” Derek pointed out, still glaring at the bruise as if it had insulted his grandmother.

Having met Grandma Hale, Stiles knew there was no one or nothing that was going to dare insult her.

“Yeah, but I heal like one. I’m gonna swim until you finish eating.” Stiles got up and grabbed Dru’s abandoned sunscreen bottle, pulling his shirt up and off. Before he could squeeze any sunscreen on, though, a big, warm chest smacked into his bare back. 

“I can help,” Derek said, backing up. “Can I, I mean.”

Stiles smirked to himself and handed the bottle back to Derek. The smell of flowers soon filled the air, his mother’s herb and magick sunscreen concoction.

Speaking of his mother, he scanned the sand and found her talking with Tanner, his wife Britney, Teresa, and her husband Charlie.

“Hey, Stiles!” Dru came splashing out of the water. “Guess who’s here?” Her eyes were dancing.

“Who?” he asked flatly, before jumping like a scalded animal when Derek’s hands started rubbing the sunscreen on his shoulders.

“Danny! I think Boyd or Erica invited him. Cora heard him talking on his phone.”

“Uh,” Stiles said intelligently, eyes glazing when Derek pressed his thumbs into Stiles’ lower back.

“Ew. Oh gods. Ew. Derek! I am _right here_.” She ran toward Cora, squealing and shuddering.

Derek chuckled, his hot breath ghosting over the back of Stiles’ neck. “Danny who?” he asked curiously.

“Danny Mahealani. Scott, Colin, and I went to school with him.” Stiles lost his train of thought when Derek cupped his hips, massaging the sun screen in thoroughly. 

Derek tugged his arm until he turned around. “Haven’t seen him in awhile?” he asked, pouring more lotion into his palm and spreading it across Stiles’ chest.

If Stiles wasn’t mistaken, his eyes had flickered gold for a second. 

“Nuh—no. I used to have a crush on him. He always thought I was joking,” Stiles added with a frown. “He’s a really nice guy, everyone likes Danny, he and Scott played lacrosse—sorta,” Stiles babbled. 

Derek was just looking at him now, hands resting at his waist.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He blinked and smiled, running a finger down Stiles’ nose, smearing the sunscreen on it, his cheeks, and forehead. He leaned forward and pressed his closed lips to Stiles’, brief and sweet. “Ready to swim?” His eyes weren’t matching his smile.

“Dude, you can’t be jealous of high school crushes, it’s not allowed. Plus,” Stiles added slyly,” _everyone_ had a crush on Danny.” He saw Danny over Derek’s shoulder and beamed. “Hey, Danny!”

“Hi, Stiles!” 

Derek turned around curiously and froze in surprise. “Wow. You’re right, everyone probably _did_ have a crush on Danny. _Damn._ You have good taste.”

Stiles, feeling bold, grabbed a handful of Derek’s truly irresistible ass, squeezed, and said, “Oh, I know,” while Derek sputtered indignantly, his face turning red.

Danny, when he reached them, held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Danny.”

“Derek,” he muttered, shaking his hand.

“You’re a Hale,” Danny said, nodding. “Will Scott get the bite after the party, or during?” 

“During,” Derek and Stiles said in unison. Derek inclined his head, letting Stiles continue. “It’s during so that everyone he cares about or is close to can see his first change, too, as well as his last hours as a human.”

“Nice. Well, my mom wanted to be here, but she’s covering the party, so…” He smiled, stunning Derek momentarily, his dimples winking.

“Covering the…party?” he repeated.

Danny’s smile flashed fresh. “We’re scribes. We keep records of the supernatural events in Beacon County. The big ones, anyway. My mom gave your mom a copy of each of her kids’ first pack hunt. We’ve been busy lately,” he added, flexing his wrist.

“You handwrite it all?” Derek asked.

Stiles spoke up. “They have to. Anything a scribe has recorded by hand is indestructible, except to the scribe themselves. It’s pretty cool. One time something happened and Danny wrote it down on the inside cover of our biology book, and he let us try to destroy it.”

Danny laughed. “Yeah, that was when there was a dark druid playing around in Beacon Hills.”

“So you can’t help it when you write—you just…start writing?”

“Yep.” Danny shot Stiles an amused glance, because it was almost the same conversation they’d had after Danny had revealed himself as a scribe.

Stiles laughed. “C’mon, Derek, this is a party. We can interrogate Danny later.” 

Derek gave him a flat look. “You already know the answers to your questions, otherwise you wouldn’t leave him alone.” 

“Yeah, but you’re much kinder and more patient than me.” 

Laura, who’d been passing them, snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

Derek scowled. “Go bother Peter,” he muttered.

“I was already on my way to do that. The beauty of multitasking.”

Danny laughed. “Hey, where’s Scott? I wanna say hi.”

“He’s finishing up the paperwork, up there.” Stiles pointed. After Danny walked away, he narrowed his eyes. “Wonder why they’re so busy lately.” 

“Well, Scott being given the bite. Umm, the Mercer pack had triplets two towns over, and who knows, maybe something else happened.”

“The Mercer pack had _triplets?_ ” Stiles asked, stunned. “I thought _twins_ were rare in werewolves—?”

“They are. That’s why I assume the triplets are a big event that he’d have to record.”

Stiles hummed. “He’s not supposed to tell us what the events are until after we know. Because they know before and during the event, even though they don’t really, like, _know_.”

Derek frowned at him. “What?”

“They don’t remember what they wrote after they’ve written it. C’mon, we can rent a library book on scribes later. Let’s swim now.” 

Carter and Alena ran by, calling to Peter that they’d lost their swimsuits, laughing hysterically.

Stiles laughed and started running toward the water, the sand burning the soles of his feet; he tripped over a leg—Jenny’s leg—and heard her yelp, which recalled the misty, confused images of his dream that morning.

He stopped ankle-deep in the water, frowning, but shrugged it off. He’d obviously foreseen Scott receiving the bite in his sleep. Not anything new. Most of his dreams were flashes of the future. He only paid attention when he was looking for something.

“What?” Derek asked, bumping his side.

“I think I dreamed about Scott’s bite.” He shrugged. “C’mon, let’s get in before Dru decides to create waves.” Stiles splashed forward until running was no longer an option, and continued to wade even further.

Derek had beaten him to the seven feet marker, where their sisters and Colin were. As soon as Stiles reached them, Erica and Boyd surfaced, sputtering.

“Erica wins again,” Dru announced. “Boyd, their lungs are _way_ more resilient than ours. Give it up.” 

Boyd sighed. “Shouldn’t there be a spell or something to help?”

“No—well, I mean, you could try manipulating the water away from your face, but—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish, instead ducking under water again. Instead of creating an air pocket, though, the water started boiling and he shot up, coughing.

“But your element is fire, so it’d take practice,” Dru finished while Boyd glowered at her.

Erica burst into laughter, and the scowl slid off Boyd’s face, leaving behind an embarrassed grin.

“Who wants to play a game?” Cora asked, standing up on the buoy, wobbling dangerously.

“What game?” Colin asked, holding a hand out to steady her.

“I dunno.” She lost her balance, shrieked, and fell into the water. She came up laughing at herself. “You coulda caught me, Dru,” she sneered, eyes still dancing with amusement. 

Dru rolled her eyes. “I’m getting Mom to get in the water, and Laura. We can all play tag. Maybe the younger kids will play, too.”

Cora watched her go. “Huh. D’you think you guys would want the bite, after Scott gets it?” she asked, turning to Stiles.

“Uh, no,” he laughed.

“Why not?” Colin asked, looking offended. 

“Because witches _never_ take the bite. We lose our magick if we get the bite.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

Stiles ran his hand over the surface of the water. “I don’t either. There’s no solid proof, but I’ve been looking into it.” 

“Even if a witch _doesn’t_ know that superstition, they say no to the bite,” he continued. “Habit, I think. Just like how we’re all really sensitive about our hands.”

“Cause without them, we can’t use our magick, right?” Boyd asked, flicking water at Erica.

“Basically.”

Dru came back with Laura, Jenny, Jean, Alena, Carter, Claudia, and most of the adults, and even Danny.

“I’m it first!” Laura claimed, and everyone scattered. “Leave the water and you’re it!” she added, lunging toward Colin and missing by inches.

Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist, hands on his shoulders. “Onward, noble steed.”

Derek snorted at him. “Are you serious?”

“This is tag, Derek. I’m very serious.” He dug his heels into Derek’s ribs, felt his stomach clench because everyone _knows_ how ticklish Derek is.

“Alright. Next round, you give _me_ a ride.” Derek dove down and, surprised, Stiles managed to gasp in half a lungful of air before they were under.

Derek shot forward pretty fast—straight into someone.

When they come up, Britney was laughing at them. “ _Run, idiots_ ,” she gasped, doing some sort of water-bunny hop in an effort to go faster. 

Behind her, Aaron was dragging Alena and Carter by the ankles through the water, much to their delight.

“Claudia is it,” they laughed as they were dragged by. 

Claudia was sneaking up behind Charlie, her hands outstretched.

“Look out, Daddy!” Jean called, and laughed when Charlie backed into Claudia on accident.

Stiles saw Charlie coming, kissed Derek’s shoulder, shoved him toward Charlie, and bolted, laughing.

 

X x x x X

They played tag for the better part of two hours before Scott came down to the water and showed them the healing bite mark on his shoulder. Since the scar from his bite would be the only one that would last forever on him, he’d tried to choose an interesting spot.

“Congratulations!” Everyone crowded him at once, most of the Hale pack sticking a nose in his hair or neck at some point or another.

Everyone ate, and when the sun started to set over the water, Talia announced that she was going to guide Scott through his first shift, if anyone cared to join in.

Derek gave Stiles a brief smile before bounding over to join the group, along with Cora, Colin, Peter, Mandy, and a couple of the kids. Aaron stood on Scott’s other side. Everyone was offering tips.

Stiles sat at the picnic table, legs kicked out.

Across from him, Dru was telling Nate that Allison said her cousin or aunt or something was coming for a visit or something and how Allison was super excited about it.

Claudia watched the wolves as they took turns shifting. Talia, Aaron, and Scott went last, shifting together. 

No one had told Scott to take his trunks off before shifting, so his back legs got tangled until Aaron freed him.

Scott’s fur was as dark as his hair, fitting in with Talia, Derek, and Peter’s fur. Mandy had russet and brown fur, Cora and Laura had silvery gray fur, and Aaron’s was a mix of reds, browns, and tans, like his hair.

Talia threw her head back and howled, soon followed by the rest of the pack, even those who hadn’t or couldn’t shift. Even Erica, in the sand, was howling. 

The wolves took off, slipping in the sand, bumping each other, toward the tree line.

They’d probably run for a little while.

“Man, Erica, I think Scott’s party is more fun than yours was,” Dru said, grinning at her.

“Yeah, _right_.” 

“All she wanted was the bite,” Dru explained to Stiles, “so her party was mostly “hey, hi everyone”, then she signed the papers with her mom, and Talia bit her and then Erica wouldn’t change back for two days.”

That surprised a laugh out of him. “That reminds me of when Colin decided he didn’t want to go to school anymore.”

Claudia laughed now. “Poor kid couldn’t even catch a rabbit.” 

“In his defense,” Nate put in, “why bother learning to hunt when you can just change back and go raid the fridge?” 

Stiles snorted. “I gave him hamburgers from McDonalds that week. He decided maybe werewolf life wasn’t so bad.”

The Stilinskis were quiet for a long moment. Dru, bored, went to persuade Erica and Boyd back into the water with her.

Colin came bounding out of the trees and shook himself out of his fur and back to the skin, located his swim trunks in the grass, and pulled them on.

“Hey, Sheriff, can I talk to you about something?”

Stiles felt his gut clench. “Me too, I guess.”

Colin nodded while Nate looked suspicious.

“Well, sit down. Is it confidential?” he asked.

Colin smiled a little. “Yeah, but I don’t mind Mrs. Stilinski hearing. It’s not like she’s going to spread it around.” He shrugged and sat beside Stiles so their shoulders were pressed together. 

“So,” he began, “it’s sort of about Isaac Lahey? And his father.” 

Claudia made a soft humming noise. “I’m going to talk to Mel. She’s still tense about Scott even though he’s fine.”

Colin told the Sheriff what he’d gathered about Isaac, and Stiles added in what he had from Dru.

Nate looked sad and angry at the end, frustrated. “I’m going to have to open an investigation on Mr. Lahey. I’ll need you both to give statements on record and write it all down. I can’t just barge into the Lahey house and remove Isaac without proof unless I think he’s in immediate danger.”

He sighed heavily. “If you could _also_ convince Drusilla to write down her statement, that’d be helpful. I’m going to try to talk to both Laheys first, but if I have to, I’ll talk to Isaac’s teacher, coaches, and neighbors, get him a social worker. I’m glad you two decided to tell me. I wish Dru…” He ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

“She didn’t want to upset Isaac,” Stiles said carefully.

“Yeah, I figured.” Nate rested his head in his hands. “Okay, I’ll be right back. I’m going to make a call to child services, set something in motion.” He got up and walked a bit away from the table, pulling out his phone.

“I feel better,” Colin said quietly. “Sorry if you weren’t ready to talk yet but I couldn’t keep it anymore.”

“No, it’s good. Good for Isaac. I hope nothing _is_ happening, but if it is, he’ll get the help he needs.” Stiles tapped his fingers and resisted the urge to peek. He would be unusually lucky if he managed to see Isaac’s future in this area with so many other people’s energy in the way. If he bothered to look, he was most likely to see Colin’s next week or his dad or moms.

He’d wait until he was alone with his tools for focus.

“Here come the rest. I’ll tell Scott about Isaac.” Colin bit his bottom lip, shook himself, and ran to meet the running wolves.

Stiles got up to follow, intending on letting Scott babble about how much fun he’d had. It was Scott’s party, after all.

Halfway there, he noticed Danny at a table scribbling on some napkins, his eyes unfocused and misted over. Stiles brought a stack of paper plates and set them beside his arm. 

“Thanks,” he murmured. “Guess Mom couldn’t get this one and the party at the same time, or I wouldn’t have to do it.”

“Do you know what it is?”

Danny’s face twisted. “Not until I can read it.” Sweat beaded his forehead as he tried to focus enough to speak.

Stiles nodded. “Okay. I’ll…be with Scott and Colin.”

Derek, Scott, and Colin were standing at the edge of the woods; Scott was shivering with excitement, his eyes glowing gold.

“Stiles! That was so _awesome!_ I ran halfway back as _me_ and I’m not even winded!” 

“That is awesome,” Stiles offered, beaming back at him. “Come tell me all about it. And put some pants on before you come back to the table, my sister probably doesn’t want to see your ass.”

“Dru loves my ass,” Scott claimed, and Stiles snorted.

“Dru likes Colin more than you.”

Scott looked genuinely hurt while Colin laughed in triumph.

“I was joking, she likes me best, obviously. Your pants are probably in the sand.”

They ate again as it got darker, Scott chattering on excitedly about his first run. Derek sat between Scott and Stiles, watching Colin across from him with narrowed eyes. 

Nate came back from making his calls and Melissa and Claudia came to the table. 

“We should get going soon. Dru’s got a class tomorrow and Stiles is going to help me out at the shop,” Claudia said, leaning down to kiss Scott’s fluffy hair. “Congrats, Scott.”

He beamed up at her. “Thanks, Mrs. Stilinski.” He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight, pressing his face against her ribs since he was still sitting.

Claudia laughed and ruffled his hair, then reached out to hug Melissa and say goodbye to Talia and Aaron.

It took a solid hour for everyone to say their goodbyes. Stiles looked for Danny but couldn’t find him and, frankly, was more interested in Derek’s thorough goodbye kiss than anything.

“Okay, boys, we gotta go,” Nate called while Stiles grabbed Derek’s thigh, hitched it up on his hip and bit at his lips.

“ _Hello_ ,” Nate called again, and, after a moment, icy water suddenly drenched them.

“ _Dad!_ ” Stiles sputtered, wiping his face off.

Nate held his hands up innocently, standing closer to the car as if he was too far away to have possibly done it.

Claudia was towel drying Dru’s hair forcefully on the other side of the car and hadn’t seen.

A gust of wind whipped across the parking lot, nearly yanking the towel from her hands, sand flying through the air.

Stiles gritted his teeth and contained it. He’d only meant for a small gust of wind. He could only imagine what might happen if he really lost control. He wondered what could draw a witch back from riding a whirlwind.

Derek ran a hand through Stiles’ wet hair and smiled. “Better go,” he said lightly. 

“Yeah.” He kissed Derek again, sinking his teeth firmly into his bottom lip before pulling away.

Derek’s eyes looked dazed, his wet lips parted and curved. “See you.”

“Yes, you will.”

 

X

Once they were finally home, Stiles thought he might sleep for at least two days. As she pulled herself out of the car, Dru’s face screwed up. 

“My head feels weird. Ow!” she gasped, grabbing her left arm. There wasn’t even a faint mark there.

“Try looking for your friends. Something’s probably happening,” Claudia said calmly. “Remember when Cora broke her arm?”

Dru nodded, shuffling toward the porch behind Claudia. Her eyes were unfocused as she moved. “Not Cora,” she murmured. “Not Erica or any of the pack…”

 _Water is for seeing the present._ Stiles watched her scan the present as easily as he could see mundane futures.

As she reached the threshold of their house, both she and Nate froze.

Dru’s energy shimmered along her skin when she burst out, “ _ISAAC!_ ”

Stiles jumped out of her way as she bolted down the steps, Nate right beside her. He threw open the door to the cruiser, getting into the driver’s seat, and Dru threw herself into the passenger seat.

Stiles searched and saw a fractured image of Isaac Lahey covered in blood from the mouth down, eyes wild, hands cuffed together.

“It wasn’t set in stone,” he mumbled to Claudia. “If Dad stops him, it might change,” he said softly.

 

Nate had the sirens going as he flew to the Lahey home on Dru’s directions. He’d seen Isaac standing over Roger Lahey and he’d felt that burn on his arm, felt the bone-deep rage. 

He prayed they got there in time.

“That’s it, Dad, that’s it with the—with the bike,” Dru gasped, lurching as he slammed on the brakes. She jumped out and ran. “D-doors open,” she called, running in. “Isaac!”

Nate skidded in behind her and froze.

Isaac Lahey stood over his father, shaking with rage, sporting brilliant gold eyes and a mouthful of ill-fitting fangs.

Dru stood partially between them, her back to Roger Lahey, who was on the ground, his face bleeding.

“You don’t know,” Isaac said softly, “what he did to me.” He started shaking harder. “It was _already_ bad at first but it got _worse!_ ” He roared near the end.

Dru flinched. “Isaac…you can’t-”

“Yes, I can. He locked me in a _freezer_.” He snarled and started to lean in toward Roger again.

For a moment, Dru stood stock still, and Nate saw…something…something _dark_ move behind her eyes, something that wanted to let Isaac kill him. Something unforgiving in his little girl’s beautiful eyes. She blinked it back and caught Isaac’s arm.

“Isaac,” he said with as much authority as he could muster. “Don’t do this. He’s going to jail, Isaac.”

“Isaac, my dad is the sheriff. He can help you,” Dru said softly, moving so that she was in front of the just-short-of-frothing new werewolf.

Nate stepped closer, cautiously. “Come on, son. My deputy is on his way. You just step back now.”

Isaac looked at him and his shoulders drooped, gold leaching away from blue in his eyes.

“He didn’t stop,” he said softly. “He wouldn’t _stop._ ”

“I didn’t-” Roger began, and Isaac fired up again.

“ _ **STOP LYING!**_ ” he roared, knocking Dru over as he lunged for his father.

Well, and then Nate had to jolt him with an energy bolt, making him yelp and topple to the ground.

 

When Deputy Parrish arrived, he put cuffs on lahey. “Charges?” he asked Nate after reciting Lahey his Mirandas.

Nate looked at Isaac, who had curled into a ball, chin resting on his knees. “Child abuse, neglect…Assault, probably.”

Parrish’s jaw stiffened and he dragged the man outside.

“Isaac, I need you to come with me.” Nate swallowed when the kid looked up at him, just so _devastated_. “It’s okay. We’re going to help you.” 

Isaac nodded. “You can’t see what he did anymore,” he murmured. “Bite made it heal.”

“What happened?” Nate asked gently.

“He got mad,” Isaac said dispassionately. “And I got mad back. I never yell back. Did this time. Slammed my face into my plate. Glass broke.” He lifted his fingertips to his cheeks, traced cuts that weren’t there anymore. Across his nose, his mouth, under his eyes. “Ground my face into the pieces. Get in the freezer. I left,” he added, lifting his gaze back to Nate’s. “I left here and he bit me and _I came back._ He kept lying.” Isaac laughed humorlessly. “I could tell he was lying. ‘Isaac, I only do it so you learn, now get in the damn freezer’.” He flashed his eyes. “Once I did that, it changed. ‘Isaac, I never hurt you, not really.’ There’s _blood on the table!_ ” His breath hitched, fingers running down his cheeks. “Blood fell down all over the table like I was crying and he left it so I could clean it up. No messes,” he murmured. “Gotta clean the table,” he rasped, lurching to his feet; Nate stopped him. 

“No, Isaac. It’s okay. Dru will clean up the table.” He shot a look at her that he hoped she understood to mean _you’ll do no such thing_.

“Come on,” he added. “Come with me now. You’re alright.”

Isaac looked at his shirt. “I got—I got blood on—”

“You’re fine,” Nate said firmly. “You’re safe. You’re safe with me. You know me.”

“Sheriff,” Isaac said with a slow nod, like he was waking up. “Dad says to stay away from your spawn.” He winced. “Sorry,” he whispered, but Nate forced himself to laugh.

“It’s okay. Let’s go. Dru’s riding in the back with you.”

In the back seat, Isaac curled his long body into a ball, resting his head on Dru’s lap.

Nate was going to make sure Roger Lahey stayed in prison for a long, long time. He wished the guy had tried hitting _him_ , add assault of a police officer to his charges.

He had to call Talia, he realized. The kid had been bitten in Beacon Hills and not by her. _Who the hell bit the poor kid?_


	10. Fighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter, and almost all in Nate's POV.

**Fighter**

The station was busy—apparently there had been a break in at a liquor store that they were handling—but not so busy that Nate couldn’t grab two fresh-faced deputies.

“I need you to get ahold of Jack Rinkman for me, and also, you,” he pointed to the woman, “I need you to take pictures of a crime scene with someone to take blood samples and bags for the evidence.”

The deputies nodded and scrambled off to do their jobs.

“Dru, take Isaac to my office to sit,” Nate ordered, and took out his phone, dialing quickly. “I need you to come to the station,” he said with a heavy sigh.

_“Why? What’s happened?_ ” Talia asked sharply over the sound of car keys jingling. 

“I’ve got a young, newly bitten werewolf on my hands. I’m sending a couple officers to the house to see the route he took into the words where he got bitten.”

“I’ll send Peter, Mandy, and Laura to check the woods for a foreign Alpha. I can have Britney and Teresa follow the scent with your officers—there are only six werewolves in your whole department, right?”

“Yes,” Nate said, wincing. Now was not the time to defensively point out that they’d been the only ones to apply for positions.

“Keep the last two at the station with you.”

“I’ll be here.” He ended the call and turned to Deputy Michaels, who’d been hovering. “Go with Vallnueva and Workings to the crime scene, try scrying for the crime and saving it in a quartz for evidence.”

Michaels nodded. “Sure. How much do you want?” 

“Tonight and…let’s go with this past week. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Once the scenes were stored, they could be used as evidence against Lahey. _If_ nothing had interfered with the energy already.

Nate ran his hands over his face and went to his office, waving for Parrish to follow him and wait outside with him. “You put Lahey in a holding cell?”

“Yes, sir. You want me to get the medical examiner for the kid?”

Nate sighed. “No, it won’t do any good. I’ve got Talia Hale coming. I need Deputy Griffin and that horrible old tape recorder to talk to Isaac. The boy,” he added for Parrish’s sake when he looked confused.

“Okay.”

Deputy Dolores Griffin was an older woman who’d helped tons of abused children in her day, and knew how to deal with them. So Nate brought her into his office. 

“Dru, why don’t you call Stiles to come get you?” Nate asked as he stepped in.

“No!” Isaac burst out, his hand tightening around Dru’s wrist. “Don’t leave.”

Dru, wincing, nodded and patted at his hand. 

Deputy Griffin stepped into the room. She wasn’t wearing her uniform shirt, just a pink t-shirt. “Isaac, we’re going to have to ask you some questions, and you might not want Drusilla to hear the answers.”

Isaac shook his head. “I don’t care. Please don’t leave, Dru.” His fingers were white around the edges and the knuckles, bruising tight. 

Nate looked between his daughter and the boy. If she and Isaac were a couple, she wouldn’t have tried to set him up with Cora, but…

Well, all of the Stilinski clan seemed to form fast and close bonds, anyway.

“Alright. Sheriff Stilinski is going to record our conversation, okay? And we’re going to fill out some paperwork.”

Isaac looked tired and scared, but he sat up a little more in his seat, loosening his grip on Dru’s wrist.

She sat quiet through most of the interview, which had Nate surprised and slightly suspicious, but he chalked it up to concern and possibly exhaustion. She made a small squeaking noise—like a rodent being stepped on—when Griffin began carefully asking Isaac if he’d ever been sexually abused. 

Nate was relieved when he answered no, and that he seemed to be telling the truth

Talia arrived after they’d finished the paperwork for Isaac to press charges against Lahey.

She was wearing a loose shirt and jeans, her feet bare. She caught Isaac’s scent immediately from the front desk.

“Poor kid,” she said softly. “Can I talk to him? I’ve met him a couple times.”

“Sure, but fair warning—he hasn’t let go of Dru since we got here.” 

“That’s okay. Preferable, actually. He needs _someone_ to be comfortable with right now. He’s got these heightened senses and brand new instincts that are probably confusing and scaring him. Not to mention whatever set him off in the first place.” She inhaled again. “Is that blood?”

“Roger Lahey has been charged with child abuse and assault,” Nate said stiffly.

Talia’s jaw clenched. “Right. For legal reasons, obviously, we need to fill out the paperwork to register him as part of my pack, but I’ll have to talk to him. I can’t force him to be pack, no matter what paperwork we have.”

Nate nodded. “Deputy Griffin advised me to let him stay the night with us. We don’t want to overwhelm him, and he’s slept at our place before.” 

Talia sighed. “Alright. I’m going to speak to him. Tell Claudia she should prepare a sleeping potion strong enough to knock _me_ out. He probably won’t be able to calm down tonight, and his temper’s bound to be unstable.”

Nate nodded and called Claudia while Talia went to speak to Isaac. She agreed to send Stiles to pick Isaac and Dru up while she prepared something for the new werewolf.

Talia waved him in when he knocked. “We’re nearly done here, Sheriff.”

“That’s good.”

“I swear I don’t know who bit me, Sheriff,” Isaac blurted. He swallowed audibly. “I just wanted to get away, so I ran, and I didn’t see the wolf until _after_ it bit me.” He shoved up the sleeve of the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department sweatshirt someone had given him, exposing the scar tissue on his left forearm.

It wasn’t a neat bite like Scott’s. Isaac had tried to wrench away, and the teeth had clamped down, held on. The scar would likely never go away.

Talia surveyed the damage with a hard, unreadable expression on her face. 

“That’s alright, Isaac. We’ll find her,” Nate said softly. “Or him,” he added with a frown. “We’ve got people looking for them now.”

Isaac nodded, looking at his knees. “So—so if I’m part of your pack, I go to your house, right?” His big blue eyes shifted to Talia. 

“We’ll get you moved in, yes. Tomorrow we’ll deal with that. Tonight, we get you over to the Stilinski house. You’ll be spending the night at Dru’s place.”

Isaac nodded slowly, once again aiming his gaze down. “I don’t really know anything about werewolf stuff,” he mumbled.

“That’s fine. We’re going to take care of you. You’re a victim here, Isaac,” Talia said firmly. “That sucks to hear, I know, but you were bitten against your will. No one blames you, no one is mad at you.”

Dru shifted in her seat. “Dad—Stiles is here.”

And so he was, tall and gangly with narrowed eyes and disheveled hair.

Nate went to talk to him first. “Isaac didn’t kill his dad,” he said first, because he knew his son. “He’s coming to our place for the night while Talia and I do the paperwork and figure out if we need to have her adopt him legally, or if just making him a legal packmate is enough.”

Stiles nodded, tapping his fingers against his thighs. “I saw—something.” His mouth twisted in distaste. “If I could have actually seen it before he got bitten, we might’ve been able to prevent it.”

Nate shook his head. “You don’t know that. The alpha bit Isaac unexpectedly. The scar is pretty bad.”

“Scar…It looks like he struggled, right?” Stiles was squinting.

“Don’t search too hard. You’ll just hurt yourself. Kid, do you know how many people can _actually_ see the future without _serious_ spellwork first? Very few,” he said before his smartass kid could try giving him a number. “And even fewer can control it. So when you can’t prevent every bad thing from happening, try not to take it too hard or too personally.”

“What’s the point of this damn “gift of air and sight” if I can’t stop crap like this from happening to a kid barely older than my sister?” Stiles demanded, and his shirt snapped against his chest in a gust of wind. He let out a harsh, annoyed laugh and closed his eyes until the wind calmed.

Nate waited until he met his gaze to speak. “Yeah, it’s hard to control. But you’ll learn how. You always do. You being able to search the future doesn’t mean it’s meant for you to stop things. It means you’re strong enough to know you can’t fix everything. Sometimes life just needs a witness,” he sighed heavily. “Are you ready to drive them, or do you need a minute?”

Stiles nodded, jaw clenched. “Yeah, send ’em out here. I can go now.”

Isaac and Dru followed Stiles out of the station, and Nate watched them go.

“Can you tell me what happened _now?_ ” Talia asked. “I’ve agreed to take in an underage boy to my home and know nothing else. It’s not a problem, but I need to know everything. Cora and Colin are clearing a room for him now. Well, Colin is taking the chance to move into the basement,” she added with an eye roll.

Nate gestured for her to sit. “It’s a long story if you want the details Isaac gave us, which I’m assuming you do.”

“You know me so well,” she said with a huff.

 

Stiles knew better than to apologize to Isaac for not helping him—for Isaac, that would just be confusing and distressing. He didn’t know that Stiles could sort of see what had happened to him. He didn’t know that, had Stiles been paying more attention to his own dreams, he’d have known someone besides Scott was going to get bitten today, and not by choice. 

So he just drove them home, the radio on low while Dru spoke quietly in the back seat to the dazed looking werewolf.

_**Mom is going to put him to sleep, right?** _

_**Yeah, she is. Talia said his temper could be pretty short tonight.** _

Dru nodded, catching Stiles’ eye in the rearview mirror. _**It was pretty bad earlier. We were calming his down, then his…parent said something and he just snapped again.**_

“I’m sorry I knocked you down,” Isaac said suddenly. 

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. You weren’t thinking straight.” 

When they got to the house, for some reason, Isaac had trouble forcing himself to get out of the car, and he was shaking all over. Stiles didn’t want to try a calming spell on him in case he noticed and lost his temper again, so he just helped Dru coax him out.

They made it to the kitchen where Claudia was in about ten minutes, and something in the room must have been relaxing to Isaac, because he stopped trembling. 

“What’s that smell?” he asked cautiously, arms crossed.

Claudia smiled. “It’s tea. Do you want some?” she asked, making to grab a cup.

Isaac hesitated. “I don’t want to bother-”

“I made enough for everyone,” she said with another smile. “Have some. I just made it, it’s nice and hot.” 

Isaac accepted the cup helplessly, sitting at the table. “What’s in it?” he asked, sniffing it. “It smells like flowers.”

Claudia rambled off the ingredients while handing Dru and Stiles a cup of hot chocolate each. Stiles knew that his mother knew Isaac wouldn’t know that the ingredients were made especially to knock someone out. Just like he knew that anyone with a working knowledge of witches wouldn’t ask “what’s in it”, rather than “what does it do” when handed a cup of something. 

It took only half the cup for Isaac’s head to start tipping back of its own accord, his eyes going fuzzy. “’M tired,” he slurred, hands thumping against the table with the cup clasped between them. 

“Well, I guess we should get you up to bed,” Claudia said briskly.

Isaac nodded, struggling to lift his head. “Yeah, I guess.” He wobbled to his feet, one arm flying out to catch himself and snapping the wooden chair into pieces. “Uh,” he mumbled like he had a mouthful of marbles, “sorry.”

“It’s no problem,” Claudia assured him, “it was my mothers.”

When Isaac looked dimly alarmed, she laughed. “Trust me, it really is no problem.” 

He gave a startled, somewhat hazy laugh, before tipping forward drunkenly. 

Stiles caught him, sagging under his weight. “And he’s out.” 

“Dru, do you mind if he takes your room, sweetie?” Claudia asked, flickering her fingers at Isaac and lightening Stiles’ load just a bit. 

“That’s fine. I can sleep on the couch,” Dru mumbled, already half asleep in the armchair she was curled up in.

_**Yeah right. Every time I hear that I wake up with your bony knee in my back.** _

Dru roused herself enough to smile sunnily at him just as he passed while carting Isaac’s sleeping form up the stairs.


	11. Broken Heels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to anyone actually paying attention. I got distracted by my NaNoWriMo idea! <3

**Broken Heels**

Scott had asked to borrow Stiles' Jeep for the day, so he'd been tasked with driving Dru to her first self-defense class at the high school. Stiles caught a ride with Claudia to _Fire and Air Supply Shop_.

He helped her open and ran the register for a little while. He went to the back to start flipping through a book full of potions that his mother had made notations in, changes, and advice about how to make each potion after a while. He wanted to make something for Derek's bruise, which hadn't gotten any better overnight. 

"Oh, hi," Claudia said brightly. "Anything you need? Or just your usual, Lydia?"

"I'm getting my usual today, Mrs. Stilinski, thanks," Lydia Martin said sweetly. "But I'm also looking for some other stuff, too. Plus, Jackson is looking for some amber."

"I am?" Jackson Whittemore said, and Stiles dropped his head on the book.

"Yes," Lydia said firmly, "you are."

"Stiles!" Claudia called. "Customer!"

Stiles got up and trudged out from the back, straightening his apron and baring his teeth at Jackson. "The amber is over there," he said stiffly, pointing.

"Stiles, please _show_ him where it is," Claudia said firmly while collecting dried herbs into a sachet for Lydia.

Stiles swallowed his annoyed huff and stalked off toward the aisle amber could be found in.

"Nice apron, Stilinski. Did you finally ind something to be good at, or are you still destroying things left and right?"

"How's the skin problem, Dr. Connors?" Stiles asked casually, and, when Jackson just looked confused, flicked his tongue out at him.

Jackson's face went white, which meant he got the point. He actually looked human for once. "Your mother helped clear it up, actually," he said through his teeth.

"Huh." Stiles jerked his thumb at the basket of amber resin. "That's all we got. Can be broken up to be put in lotions, oils, baths." Which reminded him that he could add that to his sigil potion and try to make it more protective against mental things rather than physical. 

Jackson, muttering to himself, grabbed some and stalked off to pay for it, Stiles following much more slowly.

"Good, you found it," Claudia said cautiously. Her expression was best described as a warning, and Jackson looked chastised. 

"Hello, Stiles," Lydia said almost sternly, her purchases bagged carefully and clasped in hand. "Is Scott enjoying his new pack?"

"Very much," Stiles said warily.

"That's good. How's the university?" And here her eyes sharpened with curiosity. She was a banshee, and had opted to study that and mathematics rather than magick.

Clearly, it had been a tough choice.

Mischievous, Stiles grinned and said, "S'going good. I'm working on something now, actually." 

Her eyes gleamed. "Oh, me, too. I guess we'll see how it goes. Thanks, Mrs. Stilinski. Bye, Stiles."

Stiles waved half-heartedly, leaning back against the counter. "Now she talks to me," he mused with a sigh.

Claudia shrugged. "Probably because you aren't crushing on her anymore. Plus, she's always seen you as a worthy magickal opponent." 

"You didn't tell me you helped Jackson solve the scale problem."

"No, I did not. He asked for me to keep that quiet. He still hasn't told anyone who bit him, and he doesn't want a pack." She drummed her fingers against the counter. "Well, let's make an ointment for Derek's sore shoulder until more customers come." 

They managed to get the ointment made and canned before a rush of witches and humans interrupted them, and Stiles couldn't roll his eyes any harder at how many humans --tourists mostly--asked for love potions. No one local to Beacon Hills would ask the Stilinksis for a love potion. 

"We don't sell or make _lust_ potions," he emphasized. "We have a collection of oils and scents that can help you clear your thoughts in the _matters_ of love, or some that can spur or inspire passion if it's there, but we sell nothing that forces feelings."

The man looked annoyed. "I didn't want to _force_ anything, I-"

"Well, then, clarity and passion are just what you need!" Claudia chirped, swooping in before Stiles could explode. "Go help the couple," she said brightly. "Let me show you the oils. We have a great collection of..."

Stiles went to help the couple who were buying a selection of herbs needed to make a few different potions. 

"We're having a party," the wife said excitedly, dancing on the balls of her feet. "Witches and druids only. A different bit of each potion will be put in the drinks--guests will know beforehand that we're doing that, of course--and the effects are the party's entertainment."

Stiles hesitated, glancing over the ingredients he was bagging.

"Nothing harmful!" she added quickly. "Luminescence, short term shape shifting, language switchers," she babbled, and Stiles relaxed and told them about the time he and Scott drank a language changing potion and had gone to school speaking Arabic without realizing it until their classmate Aziza had told the teacher what they were saying about calling Nate. 

The couple left flushed with laughter and sixty dollars poorer.

After that, Stiles helped a young customer find a spellbook his teacher had assigned, and a very confused human girl find the diner down the street.

Before he knew it, it was 3 pm and Dru was flying through the doors, grinning in unholy glee. 

"Stiles," she said, " _guess what?_ "

Scott ran in behind her, looking horribly embarrassed. "Dru," he began, flashing puppy eyes at her.

"Scott has a _crush_ on my assistant instructor for self-defense and _I got him a date,_ " she crowed, dancing in place.

"Scott," Claudia scolded lightly. "Using fifteen-year-olds to get you dates? That's almost as bad as using puppies or babies."

"But--I--she--" Scott stammered, flushing.

Dru scoffed. "He just sniffed at her and walked into a door. I had to do all the talking."

"You did _not_ walk into a door," Stiles finally burst out.

"Um, yeah." Scott looked at his shoes.

"He broke it, too," Dru giggled. "His hard head snapped it off the hinges. I fixed it for him," she bragged, examining her nails. 

"It changed colors, too," Scott added with a sneer, and Dru blushed to her hairline.

"Hey, Hulk, _you're_ the one who walked into it in the first place." Before she could go on, the door chimed, and Stiles' vision flickered green for a moment; customers.

"Hello! What can I help you with?" Claudia asked, shooing Scott and Dru out of her way.

The girl who'd come in was very pale, with long, auburn hair and a bright smile.

"Hi! I was actually just exploring with my brother," she said cheerfully. 

Dru made a choked noise when the brother turned around. She went behind the counter and quickly began hunting for...something...in the cabinets under the counter. 

Stiles frowned at her while Claudia talked to the girl, then went to the guy.

"Hey, do you need anything?"

"Uh," the guy mumbled. "Whatever Genevieve wants."

_Clyde._ Oh. This was the guy Dru was talking about.

"I'm looking for potion recipe books," Genevieve said decisively. "We never really learned how to make potions, and I think it's time." 

Claudia frowned. "I could teach you," she offered. "I actually run a class for witches to learn outside of formal classes. Older kids, mostly, whose parents couldn't or didn't teach them." 

"That's perfect!" Genevieve cheered. "We'll both sign up. Genevieve and Clyde Havelock," she said, holding her hand out.

The name seemed so familiar...Stiles looked at Clyde again, noted the thin windbreaker zipped all the way up, hiding his neck...

And it clicked. A sick roiling started in Stiles' stomach as he started to get the picture of why Clyde looked and seemed so familiar. His face had been all over the news...

While Claudia signed them up for a class, Stiles crouched behind the counter and googled Clyde Havelock.

He found the story on a blog called crimesagainstwitches.

Eight months ago, Clyde Havelock, 17, was taken after school in southern Alabama by a group of self-proclaimed "witch hunters" and strung up by the neck in a tree with an iron chain. Somehow, the blog had procured pictures of the injuries that had been taken by the hospital or the police...they were brutal.

The scars were bound to be red and raw still. Eight months wasn't very long for an iron wound to heal. 

Behind him, someone made a soft, wounded noise, and he turned his head to see Dru reading over his shoulder. He stood up and shoved his phone into his pocket. 

Clyde and Genevieve were turning toward the door when he caught sight of Dru and smiled, transforming his solemn face, making him look younger.

"Hi, Dru," he said, and furrowed his brow like he couldn't figure out _why_ he was happy to see her.

Claudia looked between the two curiously; Genevieve had narrowed her eyes at Clyde.

"Hello," Dru finally croaked. "Did you decide to learn to make potions?"

"Uh, yeah. Well, Genny did. She decided for us."

Genevieve made a dismissive gesture. "He never leaves the house except for work _anyway_. Might as well learn something fun and useful."

Clyde just shrugged.

"Well, Clyde, we should go get groceries now. He eats nothing but sesame chicken if I don't force him to cook," Genevieve confided, and tugged him out the door. He waved as they left.

"Okay, what's going on?" Claudia demanded, and STiles told her about what he'd read, pulling the post up to read further.

Apparently, Genevieve, his _twin_ sister, had shown up before he'd asphyxiated and got him down, calling the police and an ambulance.

"And how did you know him, sweetie?" Claudia asked Dru.

"We met at Sweet CeCe's the day Dad grounded me," Dru muttered.

Stiles typed out a reminder into his phone to look for ways to get rid of a soulconnect. 

"Oh, I see." Claudia studied her for a long moment. "Stiles, can you drive Dru home? You're free for the rest of the day. Scott," she added, "you can use my car for the afternoon if you need it." 

"Um, oh, it's okay, Mrs. Stilinski. I'll just go home." Scott glanced at Stiles and smiled wide.

"I was going to the Hales' anyway," Stiles put in, rolling his eyes.

Dru frowned. "Can I-"

"No. You're still grounded."

"Mom, I want to check on-"

"Talia said it's better to just let him get settled before going to see him," Claudia reminded her.

Dru nodded in resignation and went outside; Scott followed her, already talking to her about his date, trying to cheer her up.

"So...what wasn't she telling me about Clyde?" Claudia asked carefully, with real concern in her eyes.

"I can't just--she's okay, I promise, Mom. You'll have to ask her for more than that."

She scowled at him. "You know, Laura tells Talia everything Derek says. Why do you _both_ say **nothing** to me?"

Stiles tucked _that_ away for later. "Yeah, well, Laura is a cruel sibling, and Dru and I are honorable."

"Honorable? She spied on your date and _you_ threatened Colin--who you _knew_ had a crush on her--with an ugly spell if he ever touched her."

"So did you!" Stiles exclaimed. That had not been his proudest moment, the previous summer, upon catching Colin with his arm snugly around Dru a few times, watching her while she talked to Cora or anyone else.

Colin had laughed it off, said it was one of those things that comes on all of a sudden, you ignore it and it goes away. He'd always been like that about people he liked, come to think of it. He tended to shrug them off.

He'd probably already forgotten about it anyway. 

"Well..." Claudia sighed. "Fine. You will tell me if it's anything _bad_." 

"Yes, of course I will. But it's not." He reached out for a quick hug and kissed her cheek. "Bye! Love you. See you at dinner."

"Sure you will. Love you, too," she added with a smile.

Outside, Dru and Scott were already in the Jeep, talking with apparent animation.

"And you know Kira's as much a goof as you are, you're perfect-" Dru was saying.

"Wait, _Kira?_ As in Peet's Coffee Kira?" Stiles asked, getting into the driver's seat.

"Yeah! I got him a _date_ with Kira my assistant instructor, weren't you listening?"

"You never said it was Kira. That's why you stayed for her whole class," Stiles accused as he started driving. 

"It was cool to watch, too," Scott muttered.

Dru went oddly quiet while Scott and Stiles talked, and she barely said goodbye when they dropped her off at home.

"Maybe she's tired," Scott offered when he saw Stiles frowning. "Plus, who's thrilled when they're grounded?"

"Yeah."

Most of the Hale's were out when they got to the Hale house, working or running errands, giving Isaac time to get used to the house after Nate had dropped him off that morning with his things. Colin, Laura, and the younger kids were there; Cora was out with Erica. Derek's car was there, and Stiles had hopes he'd be up to hanging out.

Scott whipped out a key and let them in, heading toward his new bedroom. Stiles followed him, wondering where all the kids were, and why they were so quiet--he had a brief, dark moment of _Oh gods Laura's drugged them all for breaking her phone while trying to talk to Sam_ , but he shook it off when Scott laughed at him. They passed Isaac's new room and saw him curled up on the hardwood beside his bed and surrounded by his boxes of belongings.

Scott hesitated, then said, "Hey, Isaac," brightly, like they hadn't noticed the look on his face.

Isaac jumped and looked up. He was wearing a loose blue sweater and jeans, curls hanging in his eyes. "Hi," he mumbled, looking back into the box.

"Is that...your stuff?" Scott asked carefully.

Isaac nodded slowly. "I don't want it," he said abruptly. "It all smells like him. I don't want it. But Talia said I needed some things of my own." 

Scott frowned. "Do you?"

Isaac swallowed. "I don't _want_ it. It doesn't make me feel _calm_ or _safe_ or _human_ , it just makes me remember being small and weak and scared."

Scott nodded. "Okay. Bring it outside. Come on." He held his hand out.

Isaac's eyes flicked, briefly, toward Stiles, then back to Scott.

"I'm going to find Derek," Stiles said slowly, backing away.

Scott hesitated, then nodded, still holding his hand out to Isaac.

Stiles walked down the hall to Derek's room, knocking on the half-closed door.

"You can go in!" Derek's voice called from downstairs. "I'll be up in a second." 

Stiles nudged the door open and went in, sat at the edge of Derek's neatly made bed, looked around. On his desk was his laptop, a half completed application for a teaching assistant job open on the screen. 

Stiles smiled to himself, tempted to take a peek forward to see if he got the job, but he resisted until he could ask Derek. It was well known that Derek wanted to teach young werewolves in a public school. He'd gained an interest when his own teachers had just figured his parents would answer any werewolf questions he had, and skimmed over teaching anything about them in class.

It was true--most public schools just sort of glossed over werewolf stuff, assuming their pack would cover it. Derek's whole point was that schools should thoroughly educate the kids, should have more werewolf staff to answer the kids--human, witch, or werewolf--questions.

Claudia found his ambitions admirable, Talia encouraged him, Laura called him adorable, and Stiles liked the idea. Scott wouldn't have understood receiving the bite as well as he did, had he not been friends with Colin for most of his life.

Isaac, for instance, was the kind of kid Derek was trying to educate. He knew _nothing_ about werewolves except what he'd seen from hanging out with Erica and Dru.   
He'd been bitten without permission, attacked, and he knew only the obvious.

"Hey," Derek said from the door. He was smiling oddly. "What're you thinking about?"

"You as a teacher," Stiles replied without missing a beat. "Think you'll be good at it."

Derek's face lit up and stunned Stiles enough that he didn't crack the joke he'd been about to tack onto the end of that statement. He'd save it for later. 

"Thanks, Stiles," Derek said quietly. He added, with half a grin, "That means a lot from such a smart ass." 

Stiles sputtered for a second, then said, "Yeah, you'll be a good teacher until you threaten one of the students with bodily harm for talking while you're teaching." 

Derek laughed and crossed the room, closing the door behind him. He cupped his palms on Stiles' cheeks and kissed him while trying not to smile, his teeth gazing across Stiles' lips when he started to lose the battle.

Stiles reached out to hook his hands under the backs of Derek's thighs, tugging him closer. 

Derek let out a little hitched breath and climbed up onto the bed, his knees on either side of Stiles' hips, his hands slipping down to his neck, one thumb pressing into his jaw until he tipped his head back so Derek could run his mouth over his throat.

Stiles, gasping, caught a handful of Derek's hair and dragged his mouth back up so they could kiss again, lipstonguesteethDerek-and-Stiles. 

Stiles pressed his hands harder into Derek's thighs, kneading his fingers against the taut muscles there.

Derek's hands scrabbled at Stiles' shoulders like he didn't quite know where to grab him or if he should just rip the shirt off. He pulled back and gently sucked at Stiles' bottom lip, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses across his jaw, down the side of his neck, and then scraped his teeth across Stile's collarbone, the rasp of his stubble across smooth skin sending a shiver down Stiles' spine.

Stiles let out a sigh and pulled Derek's weight down into his lap while rolling his hips up languidly, curious about how Derek would react, about how it would feel.

Derek reacted by sinking his teeth into Stile's lip and moaning, pressing his hips down into Stiles' lap, hands fisting in Stiles' shirt, nearly ripping the collar.

And Stiles' phone beeped from his pocket.

Prepared to ignore it, he shifted back so he could push Derek onto the bed, panting when their mouths parted, peppering Derek's face with kisses and nips. Derek bent his knees up, caging Stiles' hips between them.

His phone beeped _again_.

"Just--just check it," Derek gasped, letting himself relax against the bed, his legs falling open so Stiles could get away, which was _not_ what he wanted to do when Derek looked like that. 

Cursing, Stiles fumbled his phone out of his pocket and scowled at the texts from Scott.

_Can you come outside and help us_

_Stiles SERIOUSLY_

"What's the matter?" Derek asked, sitting up and drawing his legs in. 

Stiles thought he might cry. "Scott wants our help with...something," he muttered. "Something with Isaac," he asked.

Another text popped up.

_We could use Dereks help too_

"Yeah, let's go. He'll just keep texting if I don't."

Derek nodded. "Okay. Isaac hasn't really left his room all day so I'm glad Scott managed to get him outside." He slid a smirk toward Stiles. "Even if he did interrupt us." 

"We'll have time. We've got all summer," Stiles promised, leaning in to smack an obnoxiously loud kiss against Derek's cheek before jumping to his feet. "Let's go see what they want."

 

Scott and Isaac were at the side of the house, away fromt eh kids playing in the backyard, and the cars in the front. There was enough space between here and the trees to make Stiles wonder why they'd chosen this particular spot.

Between them were about nine or ten boxes, clearly Isaac's things from home. He'd taken out only a couple pictures, a few clothes, and his school things, leaning them up against the side of the house. 

"So what do you want help with?" Stiles asked, frowning.

"Isaac wants to get rid of all his stuff," Scott said carefully.

"Everything?" Derek asked, frowning at the boxes.

"He took out the stuff he wants to keep. We want your help destroying it." Scott looked at Stiles, a complicated look on his face. "We were hoping to figure out a therapeutic way to do it," he added cheerfully. 

"Are you asking me to blow things up?" Stiles asked, brows lifted.

Isaac looked interested and Scott nodded. "Sort of. Come on, fire, throwing things." He shrugged. "Isaac can throw stuff, you can explode it..."

Stiles glanced at Isaac. "Are you sure you want to get rid of everything in these boxes?"

"Yes," he replied, scowling at them.

Stiles was tempted to ask if they should just take it to Goodwill, but he could see in Isaac's face that he just wanted to completely obliterate at least this portion of his past.

"Well...okay." Stiles rubbed his fingers together. "How do you want to do this? Bonfire-style or target practice?" He saw Isaac watching his fingers and smiled to himself, letting some of his energy spark between his rubbing fingers like a strong static charge.

"What do you mean, target practice?" Isaac asked, his eyes still glued to Stiles' fingers. 

"You can throw things and I'll shoot at it and make it blow up."

Isaac bit his lip and glanced toward Scott, then Derek, and back. "Okay." 

The first thing he picked up was a hardback book. The dust jacket was torn slightly and there was a dark stain on the corner of the cover underneath. 

"He gave me a black eye with this," Isaac said with a weird tone in his voice. "Made me put it back on the shelf while my eye was still bleeding." His eyes flashed gold and his mouth twisted as fangs dropped down from his gums.

"Go ahead, throw it," Stiles said, flicking half the required fingers for what was basically a controlled, small bolt of lightning. Usually they referred to it as an energy bolt but it was more complicated than pure energy. 

Isaac's arm flexes and he flung the book into the air and Stiles finished the spell, a flash of white-blue light colliding mid-air with the book, which cracked and popped and, because Stiles had added a little extra power, exploded into flaming bits of paper. 

Isaac let out a choked laugh, lifting his hands to tangle in his curls. 

Derek held his hands up. "Wait. I'm gonna put a tarp out or--something. My mom's going to skin us if the yard's a mess." He started to jog away to the garage, but skidded to a stop beside Isaac, who'd gone white. "She'll just yell, I didn't mean it literally," he said gently, and walked past. 

"Can we just...burn everything?" Isaac asked, swallowing. He was holding onto two things, another book and a silver framed picture, his knuckles white. "All at once?"

"Yeah," Stiles said immediately, nodding at Derek, who'd stopped to listen.

He grabbed the mostly unused fire pit over instead of a tarp.

They gathered wood and Stiles got it burning, and they spent their afternoon tossing Isaac's stuff in one item at a time, watching Isaac's shoulders relax a little more with each item. 

Scott lent him some sheets for his bed, and a pillow, and Stiles texted his mom about getting Isaac a job at the shop for stocking and stuff.

They stayed outside and burned the boxes his stuff had been in and kept him company while he stared at the flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziza was the name of one of my friends in high school. ^^ 
> 
> Also can we make a motion to make "hte" a freaking word??????? eklafjewkw


	12. Something Bad/ Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! I was busy with my NaNoWriMo novel! I hit 50k in thirty days, wow that was hard! And my novel isn't even finished. ;-; But it's actually fun to write still, which is a good thing. Anyway, this chapter ended up being really long and I think I had had plans to go on, but I ended it there so I could get the brain back to it. I might also have an idea for a one shot for a different universe for Sterek, Idk.

**Something Bad**

July rolled in sultry and sunny. Isaac had spent his first three paychecks getting a new wardrobe and a shorter hair cut, and was slowly filling his new bedroom with new things. He and Cora were officially, if tentatively, dating, as were Erica and Boyd. 

Stiles was helping his mother with her magickal self-defense classes, and writing formulas for his sigil potions, trying to decide how each ingredient should be altered to fit the use of the sigil, preparing to get another one tattooed. 

Dru, now ungrounded, had slowly begun to talk to Clyde Havelock a little more. She had gotten his number from _FASS's _files and begun texting him, then inviting, cautiously, to hang out with her. She pestered Stiles less everyday about finding a way to break the soulconnect.__

__“Oh, hi,” Clyde said when Stiles flung open the front door. He'd been slouched over on the couch but had, like usual, snapped up ramrod straight when Stiles came in. “Dru's getting a drink,” he said carefully, and smiled._ _

__“Okay,” Stiles replied, nodding and pulling on Derek's arm until he came through the door._ _

__“Hi,” he said awkwardly. “I'm Derek.”_ _

__Clyde nodded slowly and mumbled his own name. He was fiddling with the zipper of his hoodie, still hiding his throat._ _

__Dru skipped into the room carrying four bottled waters. “Hey,” she chirped, passing two bottles to Stile. “Mom is making a potion in the kitchen, so we're ordering Windy City tonight.”_ _

__“What potion is she making?”_ _

__Dru huffed and flopped on the recliner. “A warding one for Miz Dejohnette down the street. She keeps insisting someone or something is creeping around her back yard at night again.”_ _

__Stiles rolled his eyes. Every summer Ms. Dejohnette insisted that same thing. Claudia always humored her with a warding potion to drizzle in her yard and around her house. She made sure Stiles and Dru did _not_ roll their eyes around her._ _

__“I should go,” Clyde said softly. “My sister keeps texting me.”_ _

__Dru looked caught between relief and irritation. As Clyde stood up, she blurted, “Come to dinner tomorrow,” then looked startled._ _

__Clyde smiled tightly at her. “That's alright. I'll text-”_ _

__“No,” Dru said firmly. “Seriously. Come have dinner with us tomorrow.”_ _

__Clyde glanced cautiously toward Stiles, then back to Dru. “I don't want to intrude-”_ _

__“You're coming to dinner tomorrow,” she interjected loudly. “So is Derek, we can get all the awkward questioning done at once.”_ _

__“I am?” Derek asked, shooting a wide, wolfish grin at Stiles._ _

__“Meet the parents time,” Stiles said with a shrug._ _

__“I've met your parents. A lot,” Derek pointed out._ _

__“The Sheriff wants to meet the people debauching his children,” Stiles sneered._ _

__Clyde's face went brilliantly red. “We aren't-”_ _

__“Stiles just likes to brag,” Dru said shrewdly, narrowing her eyes. “You'll see how much of that braggart attitude shows up at dinner tomorrow with Mom and Dad watching.”_ _

__Stiles stuck his tongue out at her. “We're going up now, brat.”_ _

__“Up _where_?” Claudia asked, poking her head out of the kitchen._ _

__“To my room...” Stiles said slowly, while Derek swallowed with a click._ _

__Claudia watched them for a long second. Then she flashed a smile at Derek. “Alright, just remember we all have to walk past your room to get to the other rooms or the bathroom.”_ _

__“Guess I'll shut my door,” Stiles replied flippantly, just to see what she said while Derek grew progressively more horrified that Stiles was making it seem like he was less than a saint in front of Claudia._ _

___Saints are boring._ _ _

__“That's what your dad and I do,” Claudia said lightly, and grinned hugely, so reminiscent of Dru's unholy, gleeful grin that Stiles barely— **barely** —managed not to gag._ _

__“Okay, Mom, thanks for that image! Going upstairs to watch Netflix and try not to think about _that_.” Stiles pulled on Derek's hand, rushing toward the stairs._ _

__“Your dad used to have a beard like that before we had you!” Claudia called after him musingly._ _

__“ _Oh my gods!_ ” Stiles yelled, and shoved Derek into his room, slamming the door on her cackling. “Get your shirt off,” he ordered. _ _

__Derek lifted his brows, clearly misunderstanding Stiles' intentions. “Really, Stiles?”_ _

__Stiles shoved him again, laughing, until he flopped sideways onto Stiles' bed, making the springs squeal in protest._ _

__“Shirt, off.”_ _

__“ _Stiles,_ ” Derek said indignantly, and finally yanked his shirt off._ _

__He quelled the impulse to quote _The Titanic_ and purposely lowered his eyelids, let his voice go rough._ _

__“I just... _needed_ you to take your shirt off,” he said huskily, because he was amused that Derek had mistaken Stiles' meaning._ _

__Derek's face went red and his eyes flicked toward the door. “I—ah—you-”_ _

__Stiles' concentration broke and he laughed. “No, seriously, I need to try something out and I needed your shirt off for it.”_ _

__Derek sat up and frowned at him. “You embarrassed me.”_ _

__Stiles' jaw dropped and he gaped at him for a moment. “I'm—sorry. I was just joking.” He shifted his feet. His stomach was pitching with nerves._ _

__This was not new. Derek was actually pretty sensitive about being embarrassed. His prepubescent years were awkward, and the transition even more so, making him brusque and touchy about certain things._ _

__Stiles was used to walking the line between friendly banter and jokes and _actually_ embarrassing him. Sometimes he did cross it, but he hadn't since they'd started dating._ _

__He wasn't sure if the rules of apologizing were the same now._ _

__“I really thought you'd laugh, because of how my mom was just talking.” Stiles crouched in front of him, because he was looking down, cheeks flushed. Normally, it'd be cute to see Derek blushing, except that Stiles recognized this particular flush, red spreading up from his neck to his cheeks._ _

__He didn't care _what_ the romance books and movies said, seeing someone blush from actual humiliation was _not_ cute._ _

__“I'm sorry,” Stiles said softly. “If it makes you feel any better, I have very nearly forgotten what my project was at the sight of your truly spectacular physique. You are very distracting.”_ _

__Derek sighed and lifted his gaze finally. “It's okay,” he mumbled._ _

__Stiles explained the sigil tattoo ink he'd created, and that he wanted to test it on a werewolf to see if it worked for them._ _

__“Are you going to put that on the label when you sell it?” Derek teased, uncrossing his arms at last. “'All natural ingredients, werewolf tested'?”_ _

__Stiles bit his lip; it sounded like he thought Stiles was going to force people to try it unwillingly. “Well, _no_ , I'd have to test it out on voluntary wolves from different packs to get accurate results to put on a bottle being sold to the public-”_ _

__Derek cut him off by covering his mouth out of self-defense. “I was joking.” His eyes glimmered mischievously._ _

__Since Stiles saw that as them made even, he shrugged it off. “Okay. Hold your arm out. I'm going to put a tranquility sigil on your ribs, and a psychometry one on your palm, see if they work.”_ _

__Derek sighed and held still while Stiles carefully traced the curving lines of the tranquility sigil onto Derek's skin with his paintbrush._ _

__Once he finished, he glanced up at Derek. “Do you feel tranquil?” he asked with a snort._ _

__Derek rolled his eyes. “Not really? But I wasn't upset anymore to begin with.”_ _

__Tranquility spells usually only worked if the person it was directed at had elevated blood pressure._ _

__“Well, we can either try to raise your blood pressure, or try a different one to make sure they work.”_ _

__Derek opened his mouth, hesitated, and held out his hand. “You can try a different sigil.”_ _

__Stiles swallowed hard and tried not to feel rejected, and nodded, grabbing a smaller brush. He quickly, steadily, drew out the psychometry sigil._ _

__“Do you have them memorized?” Derek asked, his words breathed against Stiles' temple as they both leaned over his hand._ _

__“The one that are useful, yeah. They're pretty simple to remember, too.” He sat back and blew on the paint until he deemed it dry enough, hiding his smirk when Derek shifted as he did so. “Okay, it should work by you just...touching something and concentrating on it. That sigil will let you see the past of what you're touching, usually the most recent.”_ _

__Derek nodded and dropped his hand on Stiles' bedspread, causing Stiles to jerk forward in panic, flushing deeply._ _

__And, just as quickly, Derek's hand was flying away from the blanket, eyes wide, ears and cheeks tinged pink, lips parted._ _

__“ _Jeeze,_ Stiles, I mean, jeeze, you have some serious energy for a nonwerewolf.” _ _

__“ _Oh my gods._ ” Stiles covered his face with his hands, mortified. _How many times did he see?_ he thought, horrified. _It's summer!_ he thought indignantly. “I slept in,” he managed. “So I was—just, don't. The sigils work on you, yay, now never look at me again.” _ _

__Derek started to laugh, deep from the gut laughter, biting at his lips to try to hold it in. “How—I'm sorry,” he gasped, and sobered. “I should've known better, that was _really_ intrusive, but, god, Stiles, you're _really hot_ when you do that.”_ _

__Stiles flushed from his hairline to his neck, even as part of him took the statement as the compliment it probably was. He was too focused on _Oh my gods, Derek saw me jerking off in bed did I say his name oh my gods.__ _

__Usually Stiles was quiet (for once) he thought, but occasionally a name might slip from between bitten lips, especially when he was thinking about Derek, which was a lot, especially recently._ _

__“I—uh—” Stiles felt like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he scrambled to his desk, capping his ink and saying, “Thanks for being my guinea pig,bye!” while he reorganized with his back to Derek._ _

__“Stiles, come on, it's not a big deal, almost everyone does that,” Derek said, amused. His voice dropped a little, going a bit rough. “I do, especially thinking about you.”_ _

__Stiles flushed all over at the idea, enthralled. “Maybe I'd prefer if the first time you saw me like that was in person,” he said with a shrug, turning back around, nearly bumping noses with Derek._ _

__He was standing right in front of him, already kissing him before Stiles could be startled by his proximity. Stiles let out a muffled laugh, reaching up to drag his fingers through Derek's hair, kissing him back fiercely._ _

__Derek reached down and grabbed Stiles' thighs right under his ass and lifted him right up._ _

___This is much more romantic and sexy in the movies,_ Stiles thought as he jerked at the shock of suddenly being suspended off his feet; he was lucky Derek was a werewolf._ _

__Derek laughed against his mouth, running his tongue soothingly across Stiles' bottom lip. He pulled at Stiles' knee until he got with the program and hooked his legs around Derek's waist, linking his ankles and moaning out loud when that ground their laps together._ _

__Luckily, Derek kept his hands firmly on Stiles' ass, or he might've fallen. He definitely wasn't strong enough to hold himself up like this for _long_. _ _

__Werewolves had much more strength and stamina than witches._ _

__Plus, Stiles' energy was better spent kissing and groping._ _

__Stiles shirt was mostly off (one sleeve was tangled around his elbow) when Derek went still, pulling back to listen._ _

__Stiles, panting, rested his forehead against Derek's shoulder, wiggling his hips just to feel Derek's breath catch._ _

__“Derek!” Dru called suddenly. “Cora wants to know if we can use your car!”_ _

__Stiles was at once offended and relieved that they didn't want the Jeep._ _

__“When did Cora get here?” he asked, and Derek shook his head, contemplating his answer._ _

__On the one hand, Dru rarely—if ever—asked Derek for _anything_. In fact once, Dru had severely hurt Derek's feelings by telling him she didn't want a Christmas/Winter Solstice gift from him. She hadn't meant it like _that_ , of course, she'd just meant, at the time, that Derek's job was a minimum wage after school job, and he had a lot of young cousins he could get presents for. Of course, hearing someone who was practically family say, “I don't a gift from you” was a bit hurtful._ _

__On the other hand, it was most likely that Cora had made Dru ask for the simple reason that she never asked Derek for anything._ _

__Stiles saw the look on Derek's face and started to laugh._ _

__“Okay! Come get the keys!” he called, and Stiles laughed harder as he was set down on his desk, knocking a cup of pens over._ _

__“You big softie, you,” he teased, while Derek looked harassed._ _

__“My sister is much easier to say no to than yours.”_ _

__“Because she's pure of heart,” Stiles said wryly, while Derek nodded seriously. Stiles laughed more. “She has you all fooled, “ he sighed when Dru knocked cautiously._ _

__Derek let her in and grimaced deeply at the sight._ _

___Ooh, full on Bambi eyes,_ Stiles thought sympathetically._ _

__Dru smiled even wider, her eyes bright and as innocent as she could manage._ _

__“Thanks, Derek! We're just going to go get Isaac some new sheets and stuff for his room.” Her eyes twinkled. Like a cartoon. _Twinkled._ Stiles was proud of how well she was doing. “Did you need anything while we're at the store?”_ _

__“Ah, no. Just be careful?”_ _

__“We always are,” she said solemnly, still trapping Derek in place with Bambi eyes._ _

__He forfeited the keys almost trance-like, and Dru kissed his cheek in grattitude before she skipped downstairs._ _

__Derek stood blinking after her for a moment. Finally, he turned around, wide-eyed, and pointed at Stiles accusingly. “You, her, and your mother with those eyes, oh my _god_.” _ _

__“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked, all innocence. The purity of angels ran in the family, obviously._ _

__“Those big honey brown _who me_ eyes they _kill me_ ,” Derek hissed, covering his face. “I just let _Cora_ borrow my _car_ because of those weapons.” _ _

__Stiles started snickering. “Wish they worked on my parents,” he mused._ _

__“Oh they probably work on your dad, because of Claudia, but she's got immunity, obviously, as a goddamn _carrier_.”_ _

__“Like it's a disease! You wound me!” Stiles grinned, spread his knees further. “Come make it up to me.”_ _

__

__

__

__Stiles watched Derek nervously flattening his hair. He was still in his car. Stiles was watching from his window on his knees on his bed, grinning broadly. The house was filled with the scent of pot roast and various vegetables—the pot roast had been Stiles' way of trying to keep Nate civil. He didn't _really_ think Nate would interrogate Derek, not viciously, at least. Clyde, however, was about to be treated like a prime suspect in a highly publicized triple murder._ _

__Focusing intently on Derek's car—and the open windows—Stiles whipped a stiff breeze through the car._ _

__Derek's head snapped up, eyes narrowed as he looked for Stiles near the door. Stiles tapped the glass once and he looked up, scowling. Keeping eye contact, he flattened and finger combed his hair _again_. _ _

__When Stiles got downstairs, Clyde and Derek seemed to have formed a fast and desperate friendship, engaged in conversation about, of all things, shoes, while the sheriff waited for a lull to strike._ _

__

__“-really do much running and my extremities have been getting cold easily, recently,” Clyde was saying, fidgeting with his jacket zipper again. “So I just wear these.”_ _

__Derek nodded as he glanced at Clyde's boots. He opened his mouth but apparently couldn't find anything else to say about his running sneakers, because a look of panic washed over his face, then Clyde's._ _

__“And, uh, Genny,” Clyde began in a fearful babble, too late._ _

__Nate had sauntered over. “So, Drusilla invited you, boy?” he asked, fixing his gaze on Clyde, while dropping a heavy hand all casual-like on Derek's shoulder._ _

__“Yes, sir,” Clyde said in a surprisingly calm, cool voice. “She insisted it wasn't an intrusion,” he added, impressing Stiles just a little._ _

__By phrasing it that way, he asked if Nate was implying he was intruding._ _

__Nate was not impressed. His grin was more feral than even Derek could manage. It probably came from being practically best friends with an Alpha._ _

__“Oh, it's not an intrusion. And Derek, it's about time you made it to family dinner, son.”_ _

__“Ah, I—didn't get an invite until last night...from Dru,” he added, sliding his eyes toward Stiles, teasingly accusing._ _

__Stiles hopped the last two stairs and slung his arm around Derek's shoulders, knocking Nate's hand off. “Hey there, fuzzrat,” he said, smacking a loud, wet kiss on Derek's slack, surprised mouth._ _

__“Hey now,” Nate said mildly. “None of that before I ask him about his intentions.”_ _

__Stiles scoffed, running his fingers across the nape of Derek's neck soothingly. “To get a piece of _all this_ ,” he said, “obviously.” He gestured at himself, shook his hips a little and hoped Derek thought it was sexy rather than thinking he had a wedgie situation._ _

__“He must have a head injury to want any of that,” Dru quipped from her perch on the coffee table._ _

__“Ass off the table,” Nate said without looking at her, and she popped up, rolling her eyes. “What's your name again?”_ _

__“Clyde Havelock, sir,” he replied, still iced calm._ _

__“Havelock...you and some girl moved into the apartment over Xochi's place?” he asked, eyes narrowing._ _

__“Dad,” Dru said, horrified._ _

__Clyde smiled blandly. “My twin sister Genevieve and I live together, yes, over the bookstore in town.”_ _

__“Nate,” Claudia said his name the way she also said _shit!_ when she dropped something. “Help me take this out of the oven. I don't want to burn my fingers again.”_ _

__Nate's gaze had shot toward the kitchen at her voice, and he smirked at Stiles. “So it's your pot roast tonight?” he asked in an undertone._ _

__Claudia heard anyway. “Who else?! I was at work and please never tell me if anyone ever lets Dru cook, please.”_ _

__“Mom, you're going to lose a goat from the suitors if word gets out that I can't cook!” Dru called, and Claudia let out a rather loudish snort._ _

__“How many goats am I worth?” Stiles wondered, poking at Derek, who seemed to have gone catatonic when Stiles told Nate that Derek wanted a piece of him._ _

__He snapped out of it, only slightly pink faced. “Three,” he said flatly, and followed Nate to the kitchen to greet Claudia._ _

__“Three? _Three?_ ” Stiles echoed, outraged. Curiosity mingled with insult. “Where did he get that number? Why _three?_ ”_ _

__Dru giggled and stepped up beside Clyde. “How many goats would you trade for me?” she asked cheerfully, though the serious look in her eyes meant she wanted to see if Clyde would join in the fun._ _

__He frowned thoughtfully, and Stiles saw Dru's smile get tense. “Well, we'll have to dock some for your lack of cooking skills, but you're cute, so we'll say maybe...six goats.” He shot her a little grin, shrugging when she just stared._ _

__Stiles found himself just a tad annoyed, because...well he wasn't sure why. “C'mon, dining room, kids.”_ _

__“You go,” Dru said, “we'll be there in a sec.” The curious look on her face was more than enough for Stiles._ _

__“Nope, come along, minors, dinner time,” he said cheerily, hating how much he sounded like _Peter_ when teasing the kids. _ _

__The Stilinski dining table felt extremely full, even though it was only two extra people. Obviously on purpose, Claudia had taken a seat at on end of the table, Nate the other, and had maneuvered it so that Clyde was between Nate and Dru, and Derek was between Claudia and Stiles._ _

__“You cold, boy?” Nate asked Clyde, and even Claudia shot him a sharp look._ _

__Clyde's back went rigid. “No, sir,” he answered, and his voice had dropped about twenty degrees colder than it had already been._ _

__Nate watched him expectantly._ _

__“Dad, leave him alone,” Dru said sharply, and her voice was shaking._ _

__“It's fine,” Clyde said calmly, just as Nate was starting to look toward Claudia for some clue as to what was wrong. He very slowly unzipped his hoodie and took it off, draping it over the back of his chair with careful, deliberate motions._ _

__Nate inhaled sharply. He wasn't an intentionally or innately cruel person, and had obviously realized his mistake. His face was almost as pale as Dru's as they all looked._ _

__The scar was no longer red or raw looking, but pale and keloid, jagged around the edges._ _

__“ _Dad_ ,” Dru spat, vibrating with fury while Clyde sat stone still, face and neck pink with what could be humiliation._ _

__The scar didn't flush with the rest of his skin._ _

__Stiles mentally reached for Dru, to comfort her, and flinched when she slapped him back. _ **No.**__ _

__Nate focused on Clyde's face, his eyes not flickering once to the scar. “I'm sorry that that happened to you, and I apologize that I made you do something you weren't comfortable with.” His brows were pinched._ _

__Clyde quirked a horrible attempt at a smile. “It's alright.” he slowly regained the cool and calm demeanor he'd started with. “It's not a big deal.” He looked down the table toward Stiles for a moment. “Everyone already knew it was there but you, anyway.”_ _

__Stiles shrugged, unapologetic. “Your name was familiar.” _You called my sister cute and I don't think you meant it the way Laura means it.__ _

__Clyde nodded and looked at his plate. “Thank you for cooking,” he said in a distant, polite voice. “It smells very good.”_ _

__“I took it out of the oven,” Claudia said, brandishing a fork toward Stiles. She'd clearly picked up on Clyde's subject change. “I did my part.” She grinned at Nate. “That puts you firmly on dish duty, my love.”_ _

__“That's what these two strapping young men are here for. Isn't it, Derek?” Nate asked, grinning toward Derek._ _

__“I can do the dishes...” he said cautiously, and Claudia made a scoffing noise._ _

__“Good. That's settled then. Let's...eat,” Nate said with another feral grin._ _

__They made it through dinner unscathed, mostly. Dru and Clyde had, in unison, denied being a couple, explaining that they were just getting to know each other. Derek admitted to having an interview at the high school in a week, for an opening they had. Clyde and his sister were 17 and lived on their own. They'd graduated high school early, doing online classes while Clyde was hospitalized._ _

__Before Clyde could leave, Stiles, Derek, and Nate cornered him while Claudia was distracted writing down an order form from an agoraphobic client who'd called her for a new delivery._ _

__“I have some rules,” Nate said ominously. “And am close friends with a whole pack of werewolves. Not,” he added as sparks shifted along his skin, “that I need a werewolf to help me.”_ _

__Clyde lifted a brow, but otherwise his face was cool and remote._ _

__“Listen, what we're trying to say is that my sister is generally friendly and nice so if we find out you hurt her,” Stiles said with a painfully straight face, “we'll be angry.” He was trying **so hard** not to laugh. _ _

__“And we mean physically,” Derek said with a low growl. “Everyone gets a broken heart or hurt feelings now and then.”_ _

__“Even so,” Nate added, “Clyde here knows we'll be watching for emotional and mental abuse, too.”_ _

___Abuse, gods, Dad, lay it on thick there,_ Stiles thought, but he could guess where this was coming from—Isaac still had a minor panic attack if he spilled a cup of water. _ _

__Clyde watched them. “Okay,” he said. His eyes were wary, and Stiles wanted to nudge his father back a step—the kid had just recently dealt with some severe trauma himself. Even with the wary gray eyes, the rest of him—his face, his body language—exuded calm removal._ _

__Stiles wondered if he'd always been like that, or if it had developed after he'd been attacked._ _

__“Also, Dru isn't allowed at your house, sister or no. I don't know you, none of us do, and I want to trust my instincts that you're a good kid, but you and her alone in your apartment...she's...small.”_ _

__“She's not a newborn, Dad,” Stiles muttered, feeling a little uneasy with this whole thing. Sure, it's fun, threaten your sister's boyfriend, laugh about it later when they're more serious and he's family, but this was like terrorizing Isaac—just barbaric._ _

__Nate glanced at him, shrugged. “Curfew is ten—and do you have a car?”_ _

__Clyde shook his head. “My sister has a Jeep Patriot, but I don’t have a car.”_ _

__“Why such a big vehicle?”_ _

__“When we moved here, I took a plane. She drove, so she bought a big car to fill with her stuff,” Clyde answered stiffly._ _

__“Sheriff Stilinski,” Derek murmured, shifting his feet._ _

__“Just putting it all out there,” Nate said, and held his hands up._ _

__Clyde’s hands weren’t balled up, instead out flat and almost doll-like in their rigidity. “Yes, sir. Dru and I aren’t dating, but I understand your…rules.” His lips seemed to have lost color._ _

__Dru came out of the kitchen like a bullet, tripping over the rug and knocking into Nate’s back. “Are you leaving?” she asked breathlessly, steadying herself. “Are you _okay?_ ” she blurted._ _

__Clyde nodded slowly, once. “Yes, I’m alright. And I’m leaving.” His gaze flicked to Derek, then Stiles. “Thank you for the leftovers. And for having me.”_ _

__“Come back next week. Same time, same place,” Nate said with a guilty smile._ _

__“Yes,” Dru put in quickly. “You’ll come back, right?”_ _

__Clyde nodded. “Thank you.”_ _

__He left like a puppet being moved after its joints had rusted._ _

__“We’re going to grab some dessert, anyone have any requests?” Stiles asked, nudging Derek toward the door._ _

__“Oh, just go, make-out in Derek’s car. You won’t remember what we asked for anyway,” Dru snickered, heading to Claudia’s workspace._ _

__“I’ll have a shake,” Nate said firmly, eyes narrowed._ _

__“Maybe retract those claws, sheriff?” Claudia asked. “What’s with you lately? Come here. I need extra for this ward.”_ _

__Derek and Stiles left as quickly as they could, practically leaping at each other once away from the house._ _

__“You’re coming to dinner at my house next week, right?” Stiles gasped, teeth grazing Derek’s cheekbone._ _

__“Yeah—yes. I’ll be there.”_ _

Clyde cancelled at the last moment. His mother was visiting and he wanted to spend time with her. Dru invited Cora instead and they were playing video games in the living room when Stiles finished coating the drumsticks with one last bit of barbeque sauce. 

“Come on, you heathens,” he called, hip-checking Derek away from the mashed potatoes. 

Nate got home just after the table was set, so he opted to eat in his uniform.

He was explaining about the rogue werewolves that were _still_ cropping up, violent and drugged, when the front door opened.

Stiles went rigid, because his vision flickered red and he tasted copper; he readied a spell. Dru and Claudia did the same.

Nate stood up, one hand on his gun, the other raised to cast.

“Jonathan, out that away,” a woman barked. “Where’s Claudia? Drusilla, Miroslaw?” she growled, and Stiles’s jaw dropped. 

Dru started to giggle, and Cora and Derek’s fangs retracted.

Claudia’s mother, Margaret O’Doole, stomped into the room, scowling.

“Claudia, hello.”

Claudia stared at her and finally stood. “Mo-ther. Hello. When did you arrive.”

“Two hours ago. I’d have come calling sooner, but I couldn’t find this…” She cast her eyes around the kitchen. “House,” she finished.

Nate lifted a brow behind her back.

“What prompted this visit? Not that we’re…displeased that you’re here,” Claudia said, flicking glances at her children. 

“I haven’t received new photos of Drusilla or Miroslaw in a year, I wished to see my grandchildren.” She glanced over the table. “They seem to have multiplied. Who are the extras?”

“This is my friend, Cora,” Dru piped up, smiling. “That’s her brother-”

“—and my boyfriend, Derek,” Stiles finished, meeting her gaze steadily. 

Margaret turned her gaze toward Derek, eyes narrow and judging. “Jonathan, are you going to get me a chair, or will you have me stand all evening?”

Nate rolled his eyes and got an extra chair from the garage, set it between Dru and Claudia, who shot him a glare. 

Margaret sat and used a fork and a knife to pick the meat delicately from the chicken bones. “I’ve noticed this town has a high canine population, Claudia.”

Stiles choked indignantly on his chicken.

“Do you think it wise to raise my grandchildren around the beasts?”

“ _Excuse_ you?” Stiles sputtered, slamming his hand on the table. 

Derek and Cora were staring at her, too.

Margaret ignored them. “Oh, it’s much better in Virginia, Claudia, no animal riffraff, just witches, a few humans.”

Cora let out a defensive snarl, Dru dropping her hand on her arm.

“And you’ve let them into your home. I’m disappointed. Unless you’ve been using them for your spells? Werewolf blood makes a powerful spell component.” 

“ _Margaret,_ you can _leave_ if you’re going to talk like that,” Nate said calmly. The water in his cup was boiling. 

Margaret stood, fingers flickering; Stiles jumped to his feet to get in front of Derek and Cora as best he could; Dru did the same immediately.

“Margaret!” Claudia yelled, too late—she completed her spell, a bright burst of energy shooting toward Stiles’s chest.

It stopped at the shield Nate had flung up around the kids.

Claudia’s hair was curling, energy cracking along her skin. “Derek and Cora are _always_ welcome in my home. You are not. Get out.” 

Margaret stood, glaring furiously. “Obviously Miroslaw is ruined, but I’ll not let you mar Drusilla this way.”

“Derek and Cora are my **friends** ,” Dru snapped, her grip on Cora’s wrist tightening.

Margaret’s mouth tightened. “You’ll learn,” she said flatly. Her fingers twitched.

Nate stood, casually lifting his own hand. “You need to get out, Margaret.”

She left in a rather dramatic whirl of fury.

Claudia pressed her hands over her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. Her face was turning red. “I’m so sorry for that, everyone.”

“Claud-“ Nate began, taking her arm gently.

“I’m okay? Are you guys okay? My baby.” She cupped Stiles’s face, her fingers just shy of freezing on his cheeks. “All my babies.” She kissed all four of them in turn, sighing. “I should’ve reacted faster, I was…shocked. I thought, at her age, her powers must be waning…” She swallowed and ran her hands over her face. “I want all of you to be careful.” She gave Derek and Cora a hard look. “If you see her, call me or Nate. If her magick is still strong, she’s dangerous.” 

“You think she’ll attack them?” Dru asked, stepping even closer to Cora.

“No…not really.” Claudia shook her head. “But she _could_ , that’s what I’m concerned about.”

 

They finished eating in relative silence, Claudia looking particularly mortified. Nate kept shooting glances at her, and Stiles got the idea that they needed to talk. He told Cora and Dru they could use his Jeep to go get ice cream if they wanted.

‘ _ **Mom’s upset,**_ ’ Dru said sadly while Cora gleefully took the keys from Stiles’s jacket pocket.

‘ _ **She’ll be okay. Go, ice cream.**_ ’

Stiles took Derek to his room after Nate offered to do the dishes, because it was so strange.

“Sit, I’m just…” Stiles raked his hands through his hair, sighing. “Shocked. I haven’t seen her in years. Mom tries to keep her very far away.”

Derek sat at the edge of Stiles’s bed. “I can see why. What’s her deal, anyway?”

“Lives in a huge _estate_ in Virginia, the epitome of racist, or whatever, superrich, and thinks Dru and I should’ve gone to some all witch prep school there. I don’t know.” 

Derek nodded sagely. “ _Miroslaw?_ ” he asked finally, lips twitching.

Stiles laughed, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Mom chose it, actually. Dad thought it was hilarious. And now you know all my secrets.”

He smiled. “It’s a nice name. I think I still like Stiles.”

“Cause you can pronounce it,” Stiles laughed, going to his desk.

“Cause you chose it,” Derek corrected, and Stiles had turned around to call him cheesy when Derek caught him up in a deep kiss that melted his brain.


End file.
